Sweet Child Of Mine
by Aislinn Rose
Summary: Pre-series. John and the boys head to Michigan to help an old friend. While investigating an abandoned asylum that has been converted into a museum Dean discovers that looks could in fact kill.
1. Chapter 1

Willis Benson stood in his upstairs bedroom window and looked out over the small family cemetery that sat on the other side of the narrow dirt road in front of his house. His eyes followed the small figure of his wife as she made her nightly visit to the mausoleum where the dead body of their infant son had been laid to rest. He noticed a flash of lighting off in the distance and realized that a summer thunderstorm was brewing. He thought of going to his wife and making her come back inside but he knew that would be foolish; she would not come back until her motherly duties were finished.

Willis shook his head. He couldn't believe that he had given into his wife's grief and allowed her to still care for the child. He shuddered when he thought of her as she changed the diaper of and fed their dead son. He pictured her sitting in the rocking chair humming lullabies as she rocked the child to sleep. His brow furrowed as he thought of the money spent installing the gas pipeline and light that stayed forever lit because the child was afraid of the dark.

A loud clap of thunder startled Willis out of his musings. Turning his back from the window he had planned on going to the kitchen to make a pot of tea when a shrill scream made him pause. Another scream sent the man running from his bedroom, down the stair case and out into the summer storm. Moving as fast as his legs could carry him, Willis ran straight for the mausoleum. He pulled the door open and the sight he saw was one that would haunt him for the rest of life.

"Hey dad, this place sounds interesting listen to what I was able to find," Sam said as he ate his breakfast in yet another roadside diner, "The Gate Cottage that was once part of the State Hospital for the Mentally Impaired before it closed down in 1995 has been turned into a museum. The Gate Cottage, the Quad along with a very distinctive Queen Anne water tower, Noble Lodge and a small chapel are all that remain of the old hospital; everything else has been torn down.

The museum is used as a satellite learning center for the psychology department of the local university and in the spring of 1997 it opened to the public. The museum gives a history of the hospital from the day construction began, in 1854, to its final operating day in 1995 as well as a history of psychiatric care through the years.

The Gate Cottage was so named because it is located near the entrance of the hospital grounds. The cottage had for a time been used to house women patients. There has been talk of the place being haunted as early as the 1870's. There is even a story about a murder-suicide that took place in the cottage," Sam scratched the back of his neck and wrinkled his nose. Looking up from his notes he glanced at his father then back down, "I guess that is the reason we are going isn't it? I mean to check out the supposed haunting. This is real interesting all the victims appear to be women. What's even more strange is that the victims are always pregnant.

It says here that when the attacks first began any woman who was found to be pregnant was removed from the building. Patients would be sent to another ward and nurses would be transferred. The attacks had stopped or at least slowed after that measure was put in place. In the early 1900's the building was switched to house male patients and it stayed that way until 1995 when it was closed. When the male patients were there no attacks occurred but the usual tell tale signs of lights flickering, cold spots, voices and scratching still occurred. All this happened at around the same time every year, during the last week of July or the first few weeks of August, before and after these weeks no activity is evident."

John reached out for the paper his son had been reading. He scanned the print out and smiled, for all the complaining that boy does he sure is a whiz when it comes to research, he thought. He couldn't help but feel proud of his youngest; Sam had grown so much in his seventeen years that he hardly recognized him. Sam was a good 3-4 inches taller than both him and his older brother, which was something Sam took great pleasure in reminding his older sibling about every chance he got. He had put on muscle and carried a good strong build. He handled a gun as well as anyone and was just as good a fighter and his researching abilities were unmatched; he was growing into an accomplished hunter. There was just one problem his attitude, and lately there was a lot of it to be had.

John had been growing concerned over the fights they had been having lately. He didn't understand why Sam wouldn't accept things as they were; why he had to keep looking for more; why he couldn't be more like his brother. He realized that this life, the life of a hunter, wasn't an easy one; but, it was their life. John sighed and watched as Sam finished off his breakfast, his nose stuck in a book lost in the story the pages held. That kid needs a hair cut and bad, John thought then quickly pushed the thought aside. No fights today Winchester, he reprimanded himself, Sam did good he came through with the research. Allow yourself to be proud of him, leave the fighting for another day.

"Sam could you go check on your brother he's been in the bathroom long enough, I'll pack things up here. Tell him to get a move on I promised Hal we'd be in town by dinner and it's an eight hour drive from here."

"Ok," Sam said then snickered, "I bet he's talking to some girl."

"He better not be if he knows what's good for him," John replied.

Sam headed off in the direction of the bathroom while John started to clear off the table. He picked up the research papers Sam had printed out at the local library and placed them in the worn backpack Sam carried. Next he picked up the book that Sam had been reading and placed that in the backpack He checked to make sure he had gotten everything before he zipped the pack shut.

As he waited for Sam to bring his missing brother back to the table John finished the rest of his coffee and thought about the upcoming job. He had been called by Hal an acquaintance of his, and was asked to come check things out. Hal told him about the museum and of how a friend's wife had been appointed the director about a year ago and at that time nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Then about a month ago they found out that she was pregnant. And, just last week she was pushed hard from behind. She heard a laugh that seemed more like a cackle and the air turned increasingly cold. Since then things have progressively gotten worse.

At first they looked for alternative answers to what was going on, they refused to believe that the place could be haunted, or that the stories surrounding the place could be true. Then when his friend's wife was pushed down a small set of stairs they asked Hal to call John and arrange for him to come look the place over. Luckily the wife only suffered a few bruises and the baby was left unharmed.

John was brought back from his thoughts when his oldest son stepped up beside the table. He stood up, took the check off the table and headed to the counter to pay their bill. Turning back he saw that his boys had already grabbed their things and had headed out to the parking lot. By the time he caught up to them Sam had already settled himself into the front passenger seat of his brother's car. Dean, his oldest, was leaning against the hood waiting for his father.

"We have about an eight hour drive ahead of us. I promised Hal that we would be in town about dinner time; that means we should be at his place no later than six. It's already nine; we're going to be cutting it close. Stay tight behind me, minimize the pit stops and we should make it. If it looks like we're going to be late I'll give him a call." John walked over to his truck that was parked next to his sons car, got in and turned the engine over. He pulled up to the parking lots exit and waited for his son to pull in behind him before he turned out and headed off towards their next hunt.


	2. Chapter 2

It was five-thirty in the evening when John and his boys made their final turn into Hal Williams' driveway. John turned off his trucks engine and made his way up the stone path to the porch where his friend was waiting for him. Hal stood up from the chair he was sitting on and greeted his guest, "John Winchester, it's good to see you. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you decided to come." Hal reached out and gave John's hand a firm shake.

"Well when you called, you sounded very upset. There's also the small detail of me owing you; I haven't forgotten how you saved my boy's life," the other man nodded acknowledging that he remembered the incident, "I still wish I knew what made that kid do something so stupid, racing the car like that, he could have gotten himself killed."

Hal chuckled, "He almost did as I recall, the injuries from the accident were severe and the damage to the car was bad, but I think the biggest threat to him was you. I have never seen a father get so worked up nor have I ever seen a nineteen year old so afraid of his father. I just thank the heavens that Bobby was here to keep you away until you had cooled off. Bobby talking you into letting Dean stay here, to recover, while you and Sam followed him and the car back to his place so you could fix her up was pure genius. If my memory serves me correctly you vowed to take the car away from him, but I see he's still got her."

"What can I say? That little accident put the fear of me in him but good and the thought of losing her really scared him. He knows that he better watch himself with her… or else," John said with a shrug of his shoulders, "Besides, he really loves her; she has been the only real home he has ever known. I just couldn't take her away."

"Hi, Doc Williams," Sam said as he stepped up onto the porch.

"Hello, Sam. I almost didn't recognize you. You have really grown in the last three years. Look at you, your taller than your dad. I bet you're taller than your brother too," Hal said his eyes twinkling.

"Ha, ha, doc," Dean said as he stepped up to the porch, "Don't encourage him," His green eyes lighting up at the sight of his old friend, "He already likes to remind me every chance he gets." Dean sat his duffle down on the porch and reached his hand out to Hal offering him a friendly handshake. Hal took his hand but instead of shaking it he pulled the younger man into a fatherly hug.

"Ok," Hal said after he let Dean free from the hug, "The guest rooms are made up. John yours is the first one on the right after you reach the top of the stairs. Sam, Dean, you two have the last room on the left. The Petittes should be here in about a half hour. I'm going to go and see if Marta needs any help in the kitchen."

"Thanks, Hal. We'll go get cleaned up then we'll be down to help," John stated as he followed his friend into the house.

"It's nice to be staying in a real home for a change isn't it, Dean," Sam asked his brother as they were unpacking their bags, "It'll be nice to eat something other bad diner food."

"Yeah, it's nice," Dean agreed, "Hey, Sammy have you seen my green button down? I can't find it anywhere." Dean was sitting on his bed digging through his bag, dressed in a white tee-shirt a pair of his best jeans, his hair still wet from the shower he had just taken.

"My name's Sam and here it is." Sam replied as he pulled the shirt from his duffle, "Must have gotten mixed in with mine last time we washed." Sam tossed his brother the shirt then headed to the bathroom so he could shower.

"Better hurry up there, Samantha. You know how dad gets when were late and I'm betting that you're going to be late, seeing how it takes you at least an hour to style that hair of yours," Dean laughed as he put his button down shirt on over his white tee.

"Oh that's real funny, short stuff. You know you can be a real jerk sometimes," Sam huffed as he pulled the bathroom door closed.

Dean headed out of the room and made his way down the stairs to find his dad and Hal talking to a young couple in the living room. The conversation stopped as he entered the room and he could feel everyone staring at him. Hal noticing the unease that had developed in the younger man, he cleared his throat and made the introductions, "Steve and Livi Pettite this is Dean. He's John's oldest son."

"Pleasure to meet you," Steve smiled as he shook Dean's hand, "From what Hal and your father has told me that sweet girl parked out in Hal's drive belongs to you. She's a '67 Impala, right?"

"Yes, sir" Dean proudly answered back, "Dad gave her to me after I turned sixteen."

"Well, she sure is a beauty. Do you think I could talk you into giving me a ride in her sometime?"

"Steve," Livi giggled, "Please, you'll have to excuse my husband. He's quite a fanatic when it comes to cars, especially the older more classic cars."

"Everyone," Marta Williams called from the living room entrance, "If you would like to make your way to the dining room dinner is ready."

After he had gotten showered and dressed, Sam had gone straight to the kitchen to see if he could help Mrs. Williams. She had put him to work setting the bowls with the sides and the platter with the roast out on the table. He had just finished setting the last bowl when the rest of the dinner party made their way into the dinning room.

After dessert Hal, John and the Pettites went back into the living to discuss the job while the boys stayed to help Mrs. Williams clear the table. After the table was cleared, Dean headed off to the living room to catch up on the discussion, while Mrs. Williams washed the dishes and Sam dried and put them away.

Livi told John in her own words what had happened to her. She explained that she still didn't believe in ghosts, but she couldn't find another explanation that fit. She only agreed to Hal calling John in because if there was a chance something paranormal was going on she feared for her safety and for the safety of her staff.

"I understand your feelings, Mrs. Pettite. To be honest with you I wasn't a believer either, until I was pulled into this line of work. We'll meet you tomorrow morning at the museum. You can give us a tour of the building and we can start to get a feel for the place. I have a question that maybe you can answer for me now. Sam had found that a murder-suicide took place at the Gate Cottage, would you be able to tell me their names and the circumstances surrounding their deaths?"

"Yes, it's not something we like to talk about but if you think it might help," Livi said taking in a shaky breath, "It involved an orderly by the name of Nathanel Johnson and a patient named Hattie Benson…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Hattie had come to stay at the hospital after the tragic death of her son, Joshua. He had just turned a year old when he contracted measles. While we don't worry too much about measles today, it was a very deadly disease back in the 1860's, and young Joshua was one of its victims.

Hattie had a difficult time dealing with the loss of her son and soon found a disturbing way to cope. She would make nightly visits to the family crypt across from the family's home. While there she would care for the child as if he were still alive. Then one night in late summer her husband found her passed out on the cold cement floor of the crypt her dead child's body laying beside her. The body had become so decayed that the eyes had fallen out of its skull causing the young mother to pass out from fright.

The shock of seeing her child's eye's fall from their sockets caused Hattie to fall into a catatonic state. Mr. Benson having no idea of how he could help his wife had heard about the new mental facility that had been built only an hour away from his home. He called and made arraignments for Mrs. Benson to be committed immediately.  
In late August of 1868 Mr. Benson helped his wife into their carriage and made his way to the hospital. Mrs. Benson remained in her catatonic state for over two years. Mr. Benson's visits had dwindled down over those years and eventually stopped altogether. Then in the winter of 1870 a young orderly by the name of Nathanel Johnson was put to work at the Gate Cottage.

Nathanel took a sudden interest in Mrs. Benson and her case. The tragic circumstances pulled at his heart and he felt terribly bad for the young woman. With Nathanel's constant caring attention the walls that Hattie had built up started to crumble and by the following winter she had made vast improvements.

Mrs. Benson and Mr. Johnson had an illicit affair that resulted in her becoming pregnant. The affair and pregnancy became public in July of 1873 and by the second week of August, Hattie and Nathanel were found dead in her room. All evidence pointed to Nathanel murdering Hattie by stabbing her through the heart with a kitchen knife. Nathanel had been found with a needle stuck in his arm. It appeared that he had dissolved some Thallium in water and then shot it straight into his blood stream. It would have been a slow and painful death and many believed that it was his way of punishing himself for having killed Hattie.

The next year on the anniversary of the affairs disclosure up to the time of their deaths the first set of attacks began. At first they were just written off as people being clumsy, however as they grew in intensity talk began going around that it was Nathanel seeking revenge on Hattie for destroying his life. After the last round of attacks claimed a life the hospital removed all women from the Gate Cottage and it stayed that way up until now."

"That's just sick," Dean said clearly bothered by what he had just heard.

"Dean," John said he tone holding a warning.

"What," Dean asked. "It is. I mean come on her husband didn't think about getting her help until after she was driven completely mad by her dead son's eyes falling out of his decayed skull?"

John set Dean with a stern stare that relayed the message he had gone a little too far. He then turned his attention to Livi, "I'm sorry Mrs. Pettite. Please forgive my son, sometimes he doesn't stop to think before he speaks. I hope the callousness of his words hasn't offended you."

"Please call me Livi," she answered back giving John a polite smile, "It's alright. I understand where he is coming from. I may have put it differently, but I agree with Dean; the entire matter was handled poorly."

"Livi, hon, look it's getting late, don't you think that maybe we should be heading home," Steven asked his wife. He could feel the tension John still held; despite his wife's reassuring words that everything was fine.

Livi having picked up on her husband's intent nodded that she agreed with him. Standing from the chair she had been sitting in she walked over to where John was standing and shook his hand then she turned to Dean, "It really was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at the museum," taking his hand in hers she gave it a tight squeeze. She let go of Dean's hand then walked over to Hal, kissing her friend on the cheek she bid him goodbye then headed off to find Marta so she could thank her for the evening.

Steve shook John's hand; bid goodnight to Hal then turned his attention to Dean, "You know I meant what I said about your car. I'm not going to give up on trying to get a ride."

"Steve," Livi called from the living room doorway. "Leave the poor boy alone," she said while laughing, "Come on, I better you get you home before you convince him to take you out tonight."

Hal walked his guests to the door leaving John and Dean alone in the living room. After he was sure they were alone John reached over and smacked his son on the back of his head. "Hey what was that for," Dean asked rubbing the back of his head.  
John huffed, "Like you don't know. Your comments were way out of line. I thought I raised you better than that. Mrs. Benson was suffering from a mental illness and what happened to her was horrible. You're just lucky Livi is as understanding as she is. Ok it's late and I suggest you head upstairs and get some rest for tomorrow. I expect you to think things through before you speak tomorrow. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered then headed upstairs.

"You know John, you are pretty hard on that boy sometimes," Hal addressed his old friend as he re-entered the living room; "He didn't mean anything by it."

John ran a hand over his tired face, "I know Hal, but in our line of work we need to not alienate those we are, working with, trying to help. He really needs to learn, no he needs to understand that what you say and how you say it matters." John headed off to go upstairs and turn in. He stopped at the living room entrance, "Thanks for dinner Hal and thanks for letting us stay here. I'm going to head up to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, John and you're welcome. All I ask is that you remember he's a good kid and from what I have heard he is good at what he does." 


	4. Chapter 4

Sam jumped as the door to the room he shared with his brother was closed with more force then necessary. He looked up from the book he was reading and could tell from his brother's expression that something was bothering him. Sighing, he closed the book and sat it on the bed next to him. Damn it dad, Sam thought to himself, now what did Dean do?

Sam hated the way his father would get after his brother for things that most normal people would just over look. He hated watching as his brother did everything he could think of to please their father, yet it never seemed to be enough. He hated how his father would make his brother feel, like he wasn't smart enough or good enough; how he just kept pushing Dean harder and harder until Sam was sure he would break. He hated how his father didn't notice or even seem to care. Most of all he hated this life.

Dean could feel Sam staring at him and he was getting more then a little unnerved by it. Running a hand over his tired face he closed his eyes, leaned back against his beds headboard and asked, "What?"

Sam sighed, "What? That's what I should be asking you. What did dad say/do to you now?"

Opening his eyes, Dean turned his head so he was looking at his brother, Sam could see how much his brother had been hurt by whatever had happened. Sam smiled a sad smile, no matter how hard his brother tried to hide his innermost feelings, his eyes always gave him away. Sam had heard that the eyes were the windows to the soul and even though he really didn't believe it himself, he had to admit that Dean's eyes were pretty convincing.

"Nothing," Dean said he really didn't want to go there with Sam tonight, "Nothing, really." Dean didn't want to give Sam another reason to be angered with their dad. It seemed to him that as of late his brother and father were bumping heads over every little thing. Seeing that his little brother wasn't buying it he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Dean put his feet on the floor he leaned forward and he placed his elbows on his thighs, his legs apart. Clasping his hands together he fixed Sam with a look that conveyed his desire to not discuss the issue further, however his stubborn pest of a little brother refused to get the message.

"Nothing? Oh, ok, so you closed the door harder then necessary just because you felt like it," Sam huffed, his body mirroring his brothers in the way they were sitting, "Uh, uh nope not buying it. What happened?"

Dean let out an angry breath and his green eyes turned a shade darker, warning Sam that he was treading water better left un-tread. Sam just sat there his eyes fixed on his brother's letting him know that he wasn't going to back down. Dean realized he wasn't going to get Sam to back down so he caved, "Sam, really it was nothing. I got a little out of line while talking to the Pettites and dad called me on it." Seeing the doubt that filled Sam's eyes Dean continued, "Seriously, that's all it was."

"Ok, so what did you do," Sam prodded. He didn't believe that Dean would have done anything during an interview that would have been bad enough to be considered out of line.

Running a hand through his cropped sandy blonde hair the elder brother started to tell Sam what had happened. He relayed the story that Mrs. Pettite had told them about Hattie and Nathanel. He told him about how when she had finished he blurted out that it was sick, without thinking it might have offended her. He went on to explain that John had let him know that he should have thought it out before he had spoken and that he hoped tomorrow he would. Dean finished by shrugging his shoulders, "Dad was right, Sam. I should have thought."

Sam felt his insides twisting as he tried to suppress the anger that had begun to build. How could his father have thought that was out of line? Was he serious? Ok, he had to admit that it probably wasn't the most sensitive way to put it, but out of line, no way, nuh uh. Sam shook his head, "Dean why do you let him talk to you like that? You can't expect me to believe that you really think he is right, do you? C'mon, dude, all you said was it was sick and it was."

"Sam, please, not now." Sam recognized the tone of voice, the one that let him know his brother wasn't really up to it. The tone that let him know his brother was tired and just wanted to let it go. As if to confirm, Dean picked up the book Sam had placed on the bed. "Whatcha reading," Dean's eyes grew big, "Sam?"

Now it was Sam's turn to feel the discomfort of a questioning sibling, "What," he asked trying to look innocent.

"What? I thought we had discussed this and that the issue had been left closed. What are you doing with a book on criminal law? Please, don't tell me that you are still considering going off to college."

Sam answered the frustration he was feeling clearly evident, "No, Dean, you and dad discussed it while I sat and listened. For you two the issue was considered closed. For me it's still open. I don't like this life. It's not for me. I talked to Mrs. Williams and told her that I was considering going to law school. She leant me the book." Sam could feel the unease that his brother was feeling and the underlying displeasure that was developing towards Mrs. Williams. He could almost guess what his brother was thinking. "Look, she's not interfering, alright. She told me that I could look her books over but that she was in no way encouraging me one way or the other. She understands that this decision is a family decision, but that ultimately it is mine to make. Dean, I'm going to be eighteen next year, an adult," Sam lowered his eyes before continuing, "Just, because you refuse to think for yourself, doesn't mean I have to."

Dean drew in a sharp breath. He felt as if someone had sucker punched him hard in his stomach. Is that what Sam really thought, that he didn't think for himself. Did Sam really think that all he was, was a mindless robot who only did whatever their father programmed him to? Afraid that he might do or say something he would regret later, Dean grabbed his pajama bottoms and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Sam watched his brother as he walked to the bathroom. He noticed the way his brother's shoulders slumped. Way to go, Sam, he mentally kicked himself, as if dad didn't beat him down enough. He startled when the bathroom door opened, "Hey, uhm. Dean, man, I'm sorry. Really…"

"Save it Sam. It's late and I'm tired," Dean pulled the covers back on the bed and climbed under them pulling them up to his shoulders. Turning so he was laying on his side his facing away from Sam he asked, "Hey, could you please turn off the light? I'm sure the Williams' wouldn't mind if you went downstairs to finish reading."

"No, it's alright. I was going to turn in myself. Dean," Sam tried once more, "I really didn't mean it. It's just that this isn't what I want to do. There has to be something else out there I'm meant for. Please, Dean, I'm sorry." Sam sat waiting for his brother to answer but when no answer came he reached over and turned the light off. Sam snuggled under his own covers and soon sleep claimed him.

Dean rolled over and looked at his brother as he slept, "It isn't what I want for you either, Sammy."


	5. Chapter 5

The early morning sun shone over the tress at the end of the hospital's entrance drive. About a quarter mile past the entrance gate, on the left side, stood the Gate Cottage. Having left his truck at the Williams', John was driving the Impala with Dean in the front passenger seat and Sam riding in the back.

John pulled the car into an empty parking space and looked up to see Livi walking towards them. He got out of the car, followed by both the boys and waited for Mrs. Pettite to greet them. "Morning, John, Dean," Livi said a smile forming on her lips when she mentioned Dean, "Hello, Sam."

"Good morning, Livi," John replied and then looking over the crowded parking lot, "There seems to be quite a few cars here this morning. I thought we were going to have the place to ourselves for a while."

Livi shook her head, "I'm sorry John; the university called and asked if they could switch their next Monday's appointment to today. The guest speaker they had set for Monday needed to reschedule and I couldn't tell them no. We rely on the money we get from them for a lot of our operating costs, without it we wouldn't be able to be open for the public."

"Maybe we could come back. It'll be hard to not be noticed with all these people milling about. What time will they be finished?"

"They booked the place for the entire day and most of the evening. I'm sorry John," Livi looked at the man then offered out a bit of an olive branch, "but, I do know that most of their time will be spent in the dinning area of the building. That's where they are holding the seminar part of the class today. Their agenda is as follows from seven a.m. to eight a.m. a small breakfast will be served. Then, from eight a.m. to ten a.m. they will discuss the room conditions for patients and how they have changed over the years; followed by a brief tour of the lower portion of the building so they can get a visual of the rooms as they changed through time. I thought that from eight to ten you could look the building over and then from ten to ten thirty you could check out the dining area. You really won't look out of place as we are still open to the general public; the only part that is closed off is the dining room."

John scratched the back of his neck as he thought over his options. Two hours would be plenty of time for him and Dean to check out the rest of the building without anyone from the seminar seeing them, that is, if no one from the seminar was to get bored and decide they'd rather walk around. The idea of leaving and then coming back later wasn't very appealing but, the risk of being caught was much lower. Shrugging, John decided that since they were already here they might as well stay. "Ok, I guess we can give it a try. Dean, help me get the gear we'll need out of the trunk. Sam, will you go with Mrs. Pettite, she's going to show you the library/record room they have here."

With Sam following Livi to the library/record room and he and Dean geared up they headed off into the building. After they had entered the building they spilt up, Dean taking the right side of the building and John taking the left, the side that the dining room was on. It wasn't that John didn't trust Dean to keep his activities hidden; he just felt that he could do a better a job at it.

After the first floor of the building had been thoroughly checked over they headed to the second floor once again splitting up, Dean to the right and John to the left. Dean noticed the air growing colder around him as he made his way down the hall and through each room. The air got particularly cold around the nurses station and the infirmary then warmed again until he reached room 215, which would have been the room Hattie Benson stayed in. He checked his EMF meter and noticed that it was spiking at an unusually high level. He also noticed that the lights had begun to flicker.  
He turned to go and get his dad so he could tell him what he had found when he felt an icy breath on the back of his neck. The next thing he felt was a hard shove in the middle of his back and he heard someone whisper, "You shouldn't have come." Keeping control of the fear that threatened to overtake him he took off in search of his father.

Molly Adams had grown bored in the class and had decided to go looking around the cottage on her own. She had made her way upstairs and was just about to pass the nurse's station when a sudden bout of nausea struck. Quickly she turned and entered the public bathroom and headed to the nearest stall. Dropping to her knees she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Standing up she made her way to the sink, washed her hands then rinsed her mouth out with water.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was nineteen and had just started her college career. Her father had begged her to stay and go to the local community college but she had insisted on moving out and going to the university. She had met her current boyfriend during orientation and it wasn't to long after they had begun a physical relationship. Now, here she was pregnant and afraid to tell her parents and terrified to tell her boyfriend.

Molly reached in her purse pulled out her hair brush and ran it through her hair. She then pulled out a stick of gum and popped it in her mouth. She checked her appearance once again and headed to leave to the bathroom. She took one step and found that she couldn't move. It felt as if an invisible wall had been put up around her. The faucets had turned on and hot water fell from the taps. The mirrors steamed up and writing formed on their surfaces.

Molly stood in shock as the words, Dirty Little Tramp, were written across the steamed surface of the bathroom's mirrors. The taps turned off and the temperature in the room began to chill. A mist formed in the back corner of the room and shifted into the form of a woman. The woman was transparent, however Molly could make out that she was dressed in a long grey dress that was covered in what looked like blood. Finding her voice Molly let out a startled scream.

In the hall Dean, who had been passing the bathroom, heard Molly's panicked cry. Without even thinking about where he was headed he rushed into the bathroom to see Molly being tossed against the far wall, her body hit the wall and she slid stunned to the floor. Dean tried to get to her but before he could, he was picked up tossed in the opposite direction.

Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out the small baggie of rock salt he had brought with him. A cold hand grabbed him around the throat while that whispering voice said, "I should have known you'd take her side." Struggling for breath he pulled out a handful of salt and threw it out in front of him. The hand that had been chocking him let go and the temperature in the room began to rise. Dean pulled himself up and went to check on Molly.

Molly sat stunned by what had just happened. She flinched when Dean reached out and checked the back of her head for signs of injury; however she calmed down as he soothingly said, "It's alright. Let's get you out of here." He hooked his arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. Letting her rest against him he helped her walk out of the bathroom and down the hall. He found his dad and told him what had happened. John took Molly and they headed down to the first floor to find Livi so she could fill in Molly's instructor and have Molly checked out.

On the way down the stairs John began to tell Molly that it would probably be better if they said that she had slipped on a wet floor instead of what had really happened. By the time they had reached the bottom of the stairs he had convinced her that it would be for the best, she didn't want anyone to think she was crazy after all.

Dean had to smile at his dad and the way he had with people. Dean was one hundred percent sure that if he wanted to his dad could convince the entire earth's population that the sky was indeed a deep shade of red, instead of blue, and that they had all been brainwashed to believe otherwise.

As he headed down the staircase he felt the air around him grow cold and heard the whispering voice yet again, "Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel," then he felt himself falling down the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

"I thought you said that the spirit had never attacked a man before. That once all the women who were pregnant were kept out of the building the attacks stopped. That's what you said, isn't it," John asked his youngest as he paced the floor at the foot of the bed his oldest was lying in.

"Well, that's what all the information I could find said. Isn't that even what Livi had said," Sam replied watching his dad as he paced. Sam knew his father was angry but there was no way he was going to take the blame on this one. He had done a thorough job of researching the place before they had arrived and nothing had shown up in anything he had found about men having been attacked.

"You must have missed something, overlooked something, I don't know. But, what I do know is that we didn't have all the information we needed and now….."

"Now, what," Sam snapped cutting his father off, "Look, dad, I'm sorry, I really am, but this is not my fault. If there were cases of attacks on men I haven't come across any that have been reported. If they aren't reported, I can't find them. I'm not a psychic after all. Maybe, next time you can have Mystic Misty help with the research."

"Dad. Sam," Dean muttered. But, both men were so caught up in their discussion that neither had heard him or even noticed his was awake, so he tried again a little louder. "Dad. Sam. Could you two please take it somewhere else? I'm really not in the mood to listen to you both right now."

John stopped his pacing and moved to stand by the side of the bed, "Hey there Dean, how ya feeling?"

Dean who had pushed himself up so he was sitting with his back propped up by some pillows didn't answer right away; instead he just sat there his eyes moving back and forth from his father to his brother. "I'm fine," he finally answered. Then, he thought, I have a bitch of a headache, my arm is in a cast, I'm lying in another hospital bed and my brother and dad are going at each other again. Yeah, I'm fine.

Hal who had been making his rounds and had stopped to check on Dean entered the room and addressed his patient, "Well, I see you've decided to wake up. How about I take a quick look, see how you're doing and then see about getting you checked out of here?"

"That'd be great, doc," Dean answered grateful for the impeccable timing his friend seemed to possess.

"John. Sam. You know the drill I need you to step out while I look him over. Marta is down in the cafeteria waiting to see how the patient is doing. Maybe, you could go fill her in?"

"Ok, doc. So how long do think you'll need," John asked as he headed out.

Hal looked at Dean, "Give us about a half hour." Hal watched to make sure that John and Sam had really left before turning his attention back to Dean. "So, Dean, how are you are really feeling? You took a bit of a wicked fall back there. I'd have to say that you are one lucky guy. I mean it," Hal injected seeing the look Dean was giving him, "You could have really done some serious damage to yourself, but instead you ended up with only a nasty bump on the head and a broken arm. I guess the training; John gave you boys on how to take a fall really paid off."

At the mention of his dad's name Dean huffed. He didn't feel lucky. His dad and little brother, who wasn't so little anymore, seemed to be constantly fighting and he felt like he was constantly being put in the middle. He did everything he could to keep the peace, but nothing seemed to be working.

Hal had this way of knowing what Dean was thinking. Hell, he had lived the kid's life, caught between a tyrant of a father and a rebellious monster of a brother, doing all he could to keep the peace, until one day he had had enough and he left. The major difference between Hal and Dean, besides the fact that Dean had spent most of his life hunting the things nightmares are of made, was that Dean would never allow himself to be selfish enough to leave.

Hal pulled a chair up and sat down beside the bed. He placed his hand over Dean's and waited for the younger man to look at him. When Dean looked up Hal continued, "You know. There is nothing you can do to keep them from going at each other. It's not your job to keep the peace between them. Sam's grown; he needs to look after himself. He needs to face the consequences of his actions, as does your dad. Give yourself a break. I've watched you over the years and the one thing that I have noticed is that you don't look out for you. You do know that it is ok, from time to time, to put yourself first. Seriously, do you remember the last time you were lying here?"

Remember? How could he forget? It was three years ago, Sam was fourteen and his class had planned a trip to Washington D.C., over the Fourth of July holiday. Sam was excited and he really wanted to go. John had taken off on another hunt and money was really tight. Hal had given Dean a job cleaning up around his private practice, but the meager salary the job provided barely covered the rent on the apartment they were staying in and the necessities they needed, like groceries.

Even though he tried to hide it, Dean could tell that Sam was really upset about not being able to go. It was the middle of June when Dean heard about a group of kids that raced their cars for money, on the weekend. It cost $50.00 to enter with the winner taking half of the total pot. That weekend, he took the $50.00 from the emergency fund and headed to the old air field where the races were being held.

He found out when he got there that the races were held in heats. The first heat was made up of four to five cars, each driver paying the $50.00 entrance fee. The first heats would run until all drivers had raced and the winners had been named. The second round of heats ran much like the first with the winners being paired off. It went like this until there were two drivers left. The last two standing would face off with the winner collecting between $500.00 to $1000.00

Dean had easily blown through the first sets of heats and soon he found himself in the final race. The kid he was up against, Jonah Reeves, was kind of a local legend. Jonah had been the overall winner every weekend, for the last three summers in a row.

Dean won and having collected the prize money he headed back to the apartment. What Dean hadn't counted on was Jonah being a sore loser. Jonah followed Dean out to the highway and then ran him off the road. A policeman who had been patrolling the area saw the accident as it happened. To him it looked like Dean had lost control while he was racing and ran into a ditch. Because it was late and dark he couldn't make out the other car, he radioed in the general direction the car was headed but, knew that their chances of finding the car and its driver were slim.

Dean had ended up with his left leg and right arm broken. His chest badly bruised from where he had hit the steering wheel. A broken nose and the front end of his car smashed in. John had been livid when he got the news. He called a friend in to finish the job he was on and he came right back. Dean took all the heat for what happened, after all it wasn't like Sam had asked him to race. Dean took all the heat and he never once told his dad the reason he did it.

That reason didn't seem to matter anyways. Hal who had seen the effect John's anger was having on his son talked him into going with Bobby and fixing up the car. John had insisted that Sam go with him, putting Sam at Bobby's over the Fourth of July.

Hal, having gotten to the truth behind what had happened; decided to help the boys out. He called John and told him that he could really use Sam's help. Hal had explained that since Dean was too injured to work, he had hoped that Sam could cover for him, until he could find someone else. John, grateful that their friend had moved Dean in with him and his wife while he recovered agreed that Sam could come back and work until the doc could find a permanent replacement.

"This is what I'm talking about, son. You could have gotten yourself killed that night. So much could have happened during the race, but none of that mattered to you. The only thing that mattered was getting the money so Sam could go. And, now, well here you are, lying here, again, injured feeling as if you need to look out for your dad and your brother. When the truth of the matter is that they should be looking out for you," Hal paused, then continued, "Ok, what do you say we get you checked out of here?" Hal stood up and turned to leave the room, "I'll be right back with the paperwork."

John who had been standing on the other side of the door quickly ducked around the corner before the doctor noticed him. He leaned against the wall and he thought about what he had just heard. He felt like he should be angry over the fact that he had been lied to and conspired against, but he just couldn't. He realized that he had put a lot on Dean's shoulders, and while he had no other alternative, he could at least show his appreciation every now and then.

John tracked Hal down and told him what he was planning on doing. He asked him to cover for him and he left the hospital to find Steven and to take him up on his offer.


	7. Chapter 7

Hal headed to the cafeteria to find Sam and ask Marta if she could take the boys home. He found them huddled at a corner table talking about college and law school. Hal shook his head, he knew it was Sam's dream to go off to school but he also knew that John would never allow it. Hal also found himself feeling a little upset with Marta and her encouragement of Sam. It wasn't their place to interfere no matter how they felt, he was John's boy and the decision had to be made between them.

Hal walked over to the table and addressed his wife, "Marta, Dean is ready to go home. The paperwork is all filled out and filed and he can leave, there's just one little problem, he needs a way home. John had an errand he needed to run and asked me to ask if you could take the boys home." Hal looked over to Sam and could see the storm clouds brewing.

"Typical," Sam growled out, "The hunt comes first. You would think that the least the man could have done was stick around along enough to make sure his injured son made it home alright."

Marta placed her hand on Sam's arm, "Sam, please, now is not the time to go and get yourself worked up. What do you say we get that brother of yours home and see if we can't get him to eat some of my world famous cherry pie? You go on ahead help your brother get his things around and I will pull the car around to the patient pick up area."

Sam grumbling about how their dad would never win father of the year, did as he was asked. He didn't understand his father. What could be so much more important to him right now then Dean? Then again what wasn't ever more important to him then his kids was a better question.

John sat in the waiting room of the veterinarian's office his knee bouncing nervously. He prayed that he wasn't too late and that Steven hadn't had the time to find another replacement; he had had a day to do so. "Mr. Winchester, Dr. Pettite can see you now. I'll show you to his office." John nodded at the receptionist and followed her to Steven's office.

He entered the room and took the seat that Steven motioned for him to sit in. He cleared his throat and felt his stomach tighten. Why is this making me so nervous, he asked himself? I can go head to head with a werewolf without hesitation, but to ask Steven if he had found someone else I find myself growing apprehensive. I guess it's because I really want this for Dean. I know how much it will mean to him.  
"How's Dean," Steven asked.

"He's doing well. Thanks for asking," John replied, "Speaking of Dean I was wondering have you found another car to show tomorrow, or are you still looking?"

"Well, that depends," Steven answered, "Are you asking me because you decided to take me up the offer of me using Dean's car as a replacement for the car I had originally sponsored? Because, if that's case, the answer would be no I haven't found another car."

John lent back in the chair. He suddenly wasn't so sure about this. He knew that it would mean a lot to his son to have his car entered in the show, but at the same time John began to think about all the attention it could draw to them. Suddenly this didn't sound like such a good idea.

Steven sensing his apprehension spoke up, "John, no one would have to know who's car it is. We could make up any name. We could even say it's Hal's. No one needs to know. Hal and I could take her over in the morning and you could bring the boys later. I'm sure Dean would understand that no one could know she was his."

"I'm not sure. I mean, I don't want anyone other me or Dean driving her. I'm sure he feels the same way," John paused. He really wanted this for his son. "Are you sure that you can keep our name out of it," he waited for Steven's affirmative nod then continued, "Alright, you can use the car, but I'll drive over with you in the morning; Hal can bring the boys over later."

As John turned to leave Steven called out for him to wait, "There's one more tiny detail that we need to discuss," he rubbed the back of his neck this time it was his turn to feel nervous, "the car will need to be detailed tonight before tomorrow. I have a guy I use, he's very good, I'm sure he can squeeze it in."

"Detailed? The car needs to be detailed," now John hadn't thought of that, "that's more than a tiny detail, Steven. Have you seen what we carry in her trunk. We can't take the risk of it being discovered. Maybe, this isn't such a good idea after all. I don't want to clear everything out and take the chance that we leave something behind." John sat back down in the chair and ran a hand over his face. Then it hit him, "What about Sam and me?"

"What about Sam and you," Steven asked confused.

"Does it have to be a professional who details her or could we," John asked hoping that they could do it.

"Well, it doesn't have to be professionally done. But, are sure that Sam will want to?"

"I'm sure, he'll want to after he hears why," John smiled as he shook Steven's hand, "There's one more thing. I don't want Dean to know about this until tomorrow. I want this to be a surprise."

"No problem, and thank you. I wasn't looking forward to that spot being left empty this year," Steven lead John out of his office.

John stepped out into the warm summer sun and for the first time in a long time he felt pleased with himself. Tomorrow he and his sons were going to spend the day doing what most normal father and sons do, spending some quality time with each other. All he had to do was convince Sam to help him detail the car and then there was that little matter of the salt and burn to do. Things were looking up.


	8. Chapter 8

John's mood darkened when he pulled into Hal's drive and saw an agitated Sam sitting on the porch steps. John wasn't looking forward to another fight with Sam; of course he should have expected his youngest to be angry; he had taken off from the hospital quickly and without explanation, leaving Marta to drive Sam and Dean home. He should have expected that Sam would have thought he was taking care of something case related, once again proving that the job comes before everything else. Taking a deep breath John opened the car door and headed up the walk to the front porch.

Sam jumped up from the step he was sitting on, crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his dad with a disapproving glare. "Where have you been," Sam bit out, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "Seriously what could have been more important then making sure your son was taken care of," Sam asked defiantly standing in front of his father waiting for an answer.

John took a deep breath to quell the anger that had begun to build inside, remember, you need his help, not only for the salt and burn, but in getting Dean's car ready, John thought. "I had something I had to check on, something, that involves your brother. Well, involves all of us."

"Yeah, well what was so important that it couldn't wait? Something to do with the case we're working on? Of course, it has to do with the case. The case always comes first, doesn't it," Sam asked, his agitation evident in the tone that he dared to use with his father.

John, losing his hold on his temper moved so he was standing directly in front of his son. John's hands were clenching and unclenching and his eyes were compellingly giving the message that Sam was pushing his luck. Sam took an involuntary step backwards and John took another deep breath. Closing his eyes, John silently made himself count to ten before he opened them and began to speak. "Watch your tone young man. I was checking to see if it was too late to take Steven up on his offer for tomorrow. I thought it would be a nice surprise for your brother. I also thought we could spend the day at the car show tomorrow…as a family. I didn't want you to know in case it was too late. Steven said he hadn't found a replacement and that he would love to use the Impala. There's just one problem, the car needs to be detailed. We can't have someone else do it because of what's in the trunk that leaves it up to you and me." John shuffled his feet then scratched the back of his neck, "Whatcha say Sam? Think we can get the car done for your brother tonight?"

Sam stood staring at his father his mouth hanging wide open. He couldn't believe that his dad had actually thought about letting Steven use the car. They were all about staying on the down low and now their father was going to do something that for sure would get them noticed. Then there was the tiny detail of the night already being a busy one, with the whole salt and burn thing happening. Sam rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. "Sure dad, yeah we can do it. While we're at it why don't we just put a big poster board sign up declaring our presence and what we do? Oh yeah, and if we didn't already have enough going on, especially since Dean is out for tonight, why not just add a little more," Sam said the sarcasm dripping off his words like honey off a honeycomb.

In a flash John grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt and pulled him so close their noses touched. John's breathing had become heavy and his gripped tightened on his youngest boy's shirt, "Enough with the attitude, Samuel. I might have made it sound like a request, but rest assured it wasn't. We are going to do this for your brother. We both owe him. I never realized just how much until today," John let go of Sam's shirt giving the boy a little shove in the process.

He sat heavily on the top step looking at his boots. Drawing in another breath he once again addressed Sam, "I know about Washington, D.C., Sam. I know that the accident he had wasn't because of any race he was in when it occurred, but because he had managed to beat the local legend and piss the little jerk off enough that he ran your brother off the road while he was heading home. How many other Washington D.C.'s have there been, Sam? How many other times has your brother done what needed to be done so that we could have what we wanted? I'm certain I don't really want to find out the answer to that. We are both guilty of taking advantage of him. We both take from him without thinking of giving back. Your brother makes it so easy to do, but, that's no excuse. We have a chance to give something back to your brother and I damn well intend to do so. So you go inside find Hal and let him know we are ready to start on the car." John stood up and turned so that he was once again facing his youngest. "Oh, and Sam," he said before he headed off the porch and back to the car, "Remember this is a surprise for your brother." John stepped off the porch leaving a stunned Sam in his wake.

Sam opened the front door to the William's home and walked right into Mr. Williams. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't see you there," Sam stuttered out, "I was coming to find you. Dad wanted me to let you know we're ready to start on the car."

Hal smiled at the young man. He had overheard their conversation and though he didn't approve of the manner in which John handled the situation he was at least pleased that John had taken notice of all that Dean had done for him over the years. He knew John was hard on his boys and he understood why, sometimes, like this time, it was necessary, but other times; Hal wished John could find a kinder way. "Well, I was coming to talk to you both about that. My son is coming home for the weekend. He heard you Winchester's were here and he wanted to come see you. I told him what your dad was trying to do for Dean and he volunteered to help get the car ready for tomorrow. Steven called just a bit ago and said that he and Livi would be over as well. Marta has decided that we can have a barbeque out back and that she and Livi will keep Dean busy while we men get the car fixed up."

Sam's eyes lit up at the mention of Hal's son, Max. Sam had idolized Max the last time he had seen him. Max had been like a second older brother to him, only this brother liked the same things he did. Max was now in his senior at the University of Michigan prepping for his first year at the university's law school. It would be fun having him around. Then a smile broke out on his face when he pictured Livi and Mrs. Williams keeping Dean busy. "Thanks, Mr. Williams," Sam said, thinking that this night wasn't going to be so bad after all.

"Don't mention it," Hal answered back, "Why don't you go and let your dad know what's going on. I'll get the hose out of the garage along the car wash and the wax. Steven said he would bring his shop-vac over so we can vacuum the inside out real good. He also has the other things needed for the vinyl and leather. You'll see Sam; we'll have her spit shined and ready to go in no time."

"Ok. And, thanks again Mr. Williams," Sam said as he raced down the porch steps and over to where his dad was already throwing out the empty food wrappers and other trash that the boys had let accumulate in the car. Maybe, this wont be so bad after all, Sam thought, after all Dean did deserve this.

Max Williams pulled into his family's home driveway as his father was spraying a laughing Sam with the water hose while an amused, yet annoyed John Winchester yelled for them to stop playing and get back to work. He saw Steven sitting inside the car wiping down the dashboard and the seats. He smiled when he noticed Sam running over to greet him. He pulled Sam into a bear hug taking note of how tall the boy had grown. "How ya doing there, Sammy boy," he teased.

"I'm good, Maxie," Sam teased back, "How about you?"

Max grabbed Sam in a neck hold then proceeded to rub the top of Sam's head with his knuckles. Sam struggled to break free but Max refused to let go. He finally relented when his father called for him to stop and let Sam get back to work. Max followed Sam over to where the other men were busy with the Impala when a loud yell from inside his parent's house made him stop cold in his tracks.

All the men stopped what they were doing then doubled over in laughter when Dean's voice was heard, "You want me to do what? Uh, uh, no way. I mean no disrespect Mrs. Williams I appreciate everything you and Hal have done for me and my family but there is no way in hell I'm doing that."

Max stared at the laughing men, wondering what could be so funny. John saw the confused look on his face, "I guess your mom and Livi asked Dean to be a substitute Lamaze partner for Livi tonight since Steven was too busy. I think tonight is the night they're supposed to watch a birthing video and practice breathing."

"Yep," Steven replied, "better him then me."

"You can't be serious," Dean was heard yet again, "Isn't that something you should be doing with the baby's daddy? You can't put it off for a night? I can go find him for you. Really, it's no trouble."

Max joined in the laughter. He felt sorry for Dean, he could almost imagine how the younger man was feeling, but he had to admit it was pretty funny…..or maybe not, as Dean was once again heard yelling, "That's so not funny!"

John put the down sponge he was holding. "I think I better go and see how my boy is fairing. Make sure he isn't trying to make a break for it," he said then headed to the house.

Marta and Livi were sitting on the sofa in the family room watching some documentary on the supernatural, while an un-amused Dean was stretched out in the recliner complaining about all the errors that were being reported. John smiled and snuck back outside. He stepped out onto the front porch and found that the others had finished the car while he was checking on Dean. He looked over to see that she had been moved into the garage and that she had been covered up. He accepted the beer that was handed to him and let his mind wander to the next job this night held. 


	9. Chapter 9

John finished his beer then patted Sam on the shoulder, "Well Sam, what do say we get ready and head out to the hospital cemetery. With the two of us the job shouldn't take that long."

"What do you mean the two of you," Dean asked as he stepped up to the screen door, "Don't you mean the three of us?"

"Sh*t," John mumbled then quickly stood up blocking the screen door effectively keeping Dean from opening it and stepping out onto the front porch. John opened the door and pushed his son farther into the house. John had known telling Dean he wasn't going tonight would be hard, he hadn't realized just how hard until he actually had to. Running his hand over his face then scratching the back of his neck John looked into his sons green eyes. "Dean, I don't think you should come along," he held up his hand to stop his sons protest, "You were just released from the hospital today and I think you should stay and get some rest."

The look in son's eyes just about killed him. John saw that Dean thought it was because he had messed up at the museum and that John didn't trust him to be able to do the job right tonight. However, that wasn't the reason, not even close. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to have Dean go along with them. There was no one he trusted more, to have his back. Truth was, John wanted Dean to stay home and get the rest he needed because he knew the next day would be a long one and he wanted his boy to be able to enjoy it without becoming to worn down. John had to think of a way to let his son know the reason without exposing the secret.

"That's bull and you know it. I've had worse injuries then this and you still had me go out and finish the job. What's the real reason, dad? Is it because of what happened at the museum? Because the way I see it, that wasn't really my fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened." Dean stood staring his father straight in the eyes, his eyes begging his father to let him go. Begging his father to show he approved of him.

John shook his head, "Dean, my mind is set. You sit this one out. Sam and I can handle it. It has nothing to do with what happened at the museum being your fault, because you're right it was no ones fault; it's just that Hal has a big surprise planned for us tomorrow and I want you rested up and feeling good for it."

Dean huffed, "Yeah, whatever." Dean turned to go up the stairs to his room when he felt his dad's hand on his arm.

"Dean, it's the truth. There is something going on tomorrow and it's going to be a long day. I know you can handle yourself just fine and if we didn't have this thing tomorrow I wouldn't think twice about letting you go. However, this is a big deal for Hal and I wouldn't want to risk disappointing him by having you being to tired and sore to enjoy yourself," John said his voice soft and low. He watched as his son shrugged and headed up to his room his body language telling John just how dejected he felt.

John turned to go back outside when he noticed Sam had been listening in. He could tell by the look on Sam's face that his son wasn't to happy about what had happened. Sam confirmed that he was right when he addressed his father, "Dad is this really necessary? I understand you want Dean to rest, but Dean has been injured far worse than this, gone out and finished a job then drove for six hours or more before resting. He can do this. Can't you see how this is making him feel? Or, don't you care about how this is making him feel?"

"Sam there's more to it than just him being rested up for tomorrow. The spirit directly attacked your brother at the museum. We suspect; no we know; that it was gunning for him and we have no idea why. I know he can handle the job, hell he's better then most of the other hunters I've worked with. He's a natural at it. But, with one arm in a cast and a concussion on top of it, he's bound to be a little off his game. I'm not willing to take that kind of risk, are you? Having him there could jeopardize all of us. It's better if he stay behind."

The look Sam was giving John told him he understood the reason, even supported it. But, it was clear he didn't like it. John sighed, "Sam, get your head clear and focused on the task at hand. Everything we need is packed and ready to go in the truck. I'm going to let Marta know that we're heading out. I'll meet you at the truck in five minutes." Sam nodded and headed for the truck.

The ride to the hospital's cemetery was a quiet one as both men sat thinking about their missing partner. John shook his head. Stop thinking about Dean, he thought, he'll be fine come tomorrow. You made the right decision. Right now you need to focus on what you're doing.

The truck turned onto the entrance drive of the state hospital and headed to the graveyard that was located at the back of the property. Sam felt a small shiver run down his spine as they passed the Gate Cottage. Something felt off and he couldn't put his finger on it.

They parked at the outer edge of the cemetery and headed off in the direction of Hattie Benson's grave. Having searched for the grave the day before, Sam knew exactly where to go. In no time they had the grave dug up and had poured the salt and were in the process of pouring the lighter fluid into the open grave when a cold breeze passed over them. John looked to Sam and nodded for him to light the matches and drop them onto the casket.

Before Sam could get the matches lit he felt himself being thrown back hard onto the ground behind him. He landed with a grunt and froze when he looked up to see a woman wearing a long grey dress covered in blood standing before him. The woman turned her head towards John and sent him crashing into a tree causing him to hit his head on it rendering him unconscious.

The woman turned her attention back to Sam. She stared at him with her dead eyes and placed a cold hand on his cheek. Sam shuddered at the touch. He closed his eyes and wished that his brother was there to save him.

The woman removed her hand from his cheek and a sad smile formed on her lips. "Don't be afraid, I won't harm you," she said her voice nothing more than a whisper. "I just wanted to talk to you. You seem different from the others. Please don't be afraid."

Sam opened his eyes. "I must have hit my head and this is a hallucination brought on by a brain injury or something. Yes, that's it, has to be. It's either that or I'm certifiable and believe that ghosts can talk to me."

"Young sir, you didn't hit your head, nor are you certifiable. I am talking to you. Please, I don't have much time. It wasn't I who pushed your brother down the stairs. I am opposed to violence; it goes against my gentle nature. Besides, I couldn't harm him; he reminds so much of my Nathanel."

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed, "Yeah it goes against your gentle nature. Look lady you blow in here and knock me to the ground then you throw my dad against a tree knocking him out and you want me to believe that you didn't push my brother down the stairs because it goes against your gentle nature."

"Young sir, please, I did what I had to tonight so I could talk to you. I did not intend to do so much harm to your father and I am sorry, but I am trying to help you. There is another who haunts the Gate Cottage. Another who is stronger than I. She was the one who pushed your brother. She was the one, not my sweet Nathanel, who murdered me and my sweet child as he was growing in me. She then murdered my Nathanel. She was driven to it by a rage fueled by betrayal," tears formed in the woman's eyes, "I had lost my first born, that first sweet child of mine, and in turn lost my mind. I was dead inside until I met Nathanel. He brought me back to life. Loving him was wrong and I as well as my unborn child paid the price for it. I have been forced ever since to relive that night and watch as the one who took our lives, stole the lives of other's. I have been helpless and unable to stop her that is until now. I can sense you have the ability to stop her. You and your family, please you can stop it."

Sam looked at the woman standing before him. He noticed the tears that ran down her cheeks and was stunned to see that even a ghost could cry. His gut told him that she was telling the truth. He pulled himself up off the ground and walked over to check on his dad. Satisfied that he was still breathing and would wake up ok, except for the massive headache he was sure to have Sam turned his attention back to the woman. "Let's say that I believe you, what is this other's name?" The woman shook her head and backed away from Sam, panic now etched over her ghostly face. "How can we help you if we don't know her name? You have to tell me her name."

"No, young sir I can't speak her name, to do so would bring her and that would surely spell disaster for you and your father," the woman hung her head saddened that she couldn't be of more help.

"That's just great," Sam said his frustration made evident by his voice. The woman flinched and Sam felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry," he said his voice growing softer, "It's just I don't know how to help if you can't give me her name. Is there anything you can tell me about this woman that would help us find out who she is? Anything, at all?"

The woman sighed, "All I can tell you is look in the records. She holds a connection to Nathanel and was admitted shortly after our deaths. Please, young sir, you have to do something before more innocent people are harmed." The ghost let out a scream and faded from view.

Sam stood, stunned, staring at the spot where the woman had been standing. Snapping out of his shocked surprise he noticed his father standing by the grave his face lit by the flames of the fire that burned inside it.

John staggered over to his son and checked to make sure that he was fine. Once assured that his son was physically well he decided to check on his mental status, "Just what in the hell where you thinking Sam? We don't stand around having conversations with the damn spirits we burn them."

Sam looked at his father then down to the ground, "I don't believe that she was the one we are looking for. She told me there was another who haunted the Gate Cottage and that this one was the one responsible for her murder and the others as well."

John's jaw dropped and he once again examined his son for injuries. John was sure that his boy must have hit his head because there was no way in hell he was going to believe that Sam actually thought he had held a conversation with a ghost. "Ok, Sam let's get you back to Hal's and have him look you over. You must have hit your head or something because you know as well as I do that ghosts don't carry on conversations with those about to destroy them."

"Yeah, ok," Sam agreed. He helped his dad pick up their equipment and carry it back to the truck. He climbed inside the truck and closed the door behind him. He couldn't shake the feeling that Hattie had been telling the truth and that they had just salted and burnt the wrong body.

John looked at his youngest, concern burning deep inside for him. He knew Sam was different, special; could being able to talk to spirits be a part of that? Was Sam right and they had just toasted the wrong body? No, they had torched the right body and Sam's conversation had been nothing more than a hallucination brought on by a hit to his noggin. John climbed into the cab of the truck, started it up and headed back home. Neither man was aware of the dark figure that had been watching them from the small grove of trees just off to the side of Hattie's grave.


	10. Chapter 10

After Hal had finished looking Sam over and Sam had headed off to bed, he turned his attention to John, "I can't find any evidence that he had hit his head he seems fine to me; unlike you. Think it's a possibility that he saw what he says he did?"

"I don't know. I really don't," John answered afraid that it was just as it appeared, "I have never come across it myself." John sat down in the chair that Hal motioned for him to take. Drawing in a deep breath he prepared himself for the poking and prodding he was sure was about to happen.

Hal pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves and began checking the back of John's head. He washed away the blood that had hardened in John's hair and carefully examined the cut that lay beneath. "You know John, just because you have never come across it, don't mean that it hasn't ever or will never happen. You know as well as I do that Sam isn't one to image things. Maybe, you could let him dig a little deeper, see if there is anything to what he says Hattie told him. Couldn't hurt could it?"

"No, I guess it couldn't," John said then he let out a hiss and brushed at Hal's hands, "Geez, Hal could you try to make it hurt anymore?"

Hal laughed, "Never thought I'd see the day when the mighty John Winchester would get all weepy over a small bump on the head."

"It's not the bump that hurts, it's the clumsy hands of the doctor that does. Where'd ya learn how to be so gentle?"

"Well, that's gratitude for you. I could go wake up Dean, let him stitch you up. Would that be better?"

"No. Just get it over with. The last thing I want right now is for Dean to hear about what happened. He'd just blame himself for not being there and get mad at me for making him stay behind."

"Alright, quit complaining then," Hal said, "You know John, you really should learn to trust your sons more. They're good boys." Hal finished with the last stitch, threw his gloves and the rest of the waste away and sat down opposite his friend. Hal grew serious, "You know, you could be wrong don't you John? What if what Sam saw really did happen? You can't leave until you check it out. I know that you couldn't live with the guilt if something was missed and someone got hurt. I don't know how you do what you do. I know I couldn't."

"That's why," John said suddenly looking tired, "After what happened to Mary and finding out the truth about what's out there and realizing that there aren't to many others out there doing something about it, I felt compelled to. There are days when I look at my boys and regret having dragged them into this, but I know I made the right decision. I honestly believe that for some unknown reason my family was chosen for this. I wish to all that is holy we weren't but I know that we were." John looked at the clock on the wall. He laid his head back on the chair and closed his eyes. "Tomorrow is about Dean and about me and the boys doing something as a father with his sons. If Sam wants to check out the information he claims he was given, then he can go to the hospital on Sunday and dig through the records," John stood up stretched then headed up the stairs to his room. "Thanks, Hal for everything. I mean it. See you in the morning."

Hal watched as his friend climbed the stairs. "You're welcome," he whispered, "And, for the record I wish you hadn't been pulled into this life, but I thank the stars that you were; I sleep better at night knowing that men like you are out there doing what men like me can't" He turned the light off and headed to his own room.

When John reached the top of the stairs he noticed a sliver of light coming from under the door of the room his boys were sharing. Sneaking up to the door he pressed his ear against it so he could hear what was going on.

Dean's was the first voice he heard, "Come on Sammy, I know something happened out there tonight; it's written all over your face."

"Drop it Dean, please? I'm tired. I told you nothing happened. It went smoothly. All I want to do is climb into bed and get some sleep," Sam countered.

"Not buying it," John heard Dean's reply, "I can tell that something is bothering you. You don't look like you were hurt so what else could have happened? Is it dad, did something happen to him and he told you not to tell me?"

"No, Dean. Dad's alright. It's just what I told you, I'm tired. It was a long day and all I want to do is climb under the covers, close my eyes and go to sleep. In case you've forgotten we have this mandatory thing to do tomorrow and I want to get some sleep while I can."

"Fine," the way Dean's voice sounded tugged at John's heart. It never failed to amaze him how fragile his son really was. On the surface and just below his boy was a tough as they came. But, underneath that toughness, buried deep was a hurt and frightened little boy.

John heard Sam sigh, "Look Dean it's late. I promise you I'm fine and so is dad. Nothing happened really. We dug her up, covered her bones in salt and lighter fluid then lit her up. Now can we go to bed, please?"

John didn't hear Dean reply. He saw the light from under the door go off and he headed to his room. His mind was racing with thoughts of what Sam had told him about Hattie, and of what Hal had said to him about not being able to live with himself if Sam was right. John got ready for bed, turned off the light then crawled under the covers. The last thing he thought to himself was, tomorrow is for my family. Sunday, we'll dig into what Sam was told. John drifted off to sleep and before he knew it morning came sooner then he would have liked.


	11. Chapter 11

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his nostrils as John entered the Williams' kitchen. He walked over to the cupboard, pulled out a mug and poured himself a cup of the steamy black liquid. He turned his back to the counter and leaned up against it willing the headache he had been sporting, since waking, to go away. He looked up when he heard someone enter the kitchen.

Dean had heard his father get up. He waited until he heard his father leave his room and head downstairs before he followed. He entered the kitchen after his dad. Pulling a mug from the same cupboard, as his father, he poured himself a cup of coffee then sat down at the kitchen table. He watched as his dad reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head, wincing, just a bit, when his fingers came into contact with the stitched up cut and bump that lay there.

Feeling his son watching him, John pulled his hand away from his injured head and looked at him. He could tell his son was trying to gauge what injuries if any he had acquired in the course of the last night's hunt and sighed, "Morning, Dean, you hungry? How does scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and toast sound? I was going to get things started, try to get a head start before the rest of the crew makes their way down. Figured it would be nice for someone else to do the cooking, you know give Marta a break and all."

Dean smirked; he knew his father was trying to keep him from asking about the previous night. Nice try he said to himself, out loud he answered, "Sounds good," holding his father's gaze he continued, "So how did last night go? Sam seemed fine, a little distracted, but fine." Dean took a drink of his coffee and placed the cup on the table.

Looking down, John broke the hold of Dean's stare. Damn kid, just wont let it go, John said to himself, to Dean he answered, "It went fine. We got the job done. Sam did well. Now, what about breakfast? You want to help me out with it?"

"Sure, why not," Dean shrugged. He wasn't surprised that he didn't get any more out of his dad than he had Sam, but he had hoped that maybe just maybe he would. Something was going on, they were holding something back and it bothered him not knowing. He stood up and went to get the frying pans they would need and the bread from the pantry.

John had gotten the eggs out of the refrigerator and started breaking them into a bowl. After he had broken as many as he thought he would need he beat them a fork before he poured them into the frying pan. He watched Dean as he grabbed the bacon and sausage and started to fry them. He could tell by his son's manor that he suspected something else was going on. John wanted to tell him what it was but had promised himself that he would give his boys a normal day and he was going to stick to it.

Soon the smell of the frying eggs and meat wafted about the house pulling the rest of the household to the kitchen. Max and Sam came into the kitchen laughing over some joke Max had heard while at school. Hal followed closely yawning and scratching his stomach as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Marta was the last to enter a surprised smile on her face, "Looks and smells good boys."

They had all sat down to eat when the doorbell rang. Hal got up to answer. Steven had come to pick John and the car up. Hal invited him to come to breakfast. The mood was light and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. John looked at his sons and smiled for the first time in a long time they actually appeared to be relaxed. Sam was joking around with Max and Dean was playfully teasing Marta over who was responsible for cleaning up the mess he and his father had made.

Steven looked at his watch then to John, "It's about time we head out. Everything is set and ready to go just need you to pack the last item and we can get a move on."  
Dean looked at John, "What's he talking about dad. I thought we had this big day planned with Hal.

Steven spoke up, "You do. Hal asked if we would help him put some things together for it. Hal figured we could do that and you, Sam and Max could catch up with us later."

Dean not accepting any explanation from Steven watched for confirmation from his dad. John knew what Dean was thinking so he offered the reassurance his son needed, "I guess I forgot to tell you. Hal wanted to drive over with you two, seeing as we are planning on leaving in tomorrow morning, he wanted to spend a little more time with you both. He figured that Steven and I could handle what needed to be done on our own."

"Hey boys why don't you all head upstairs and get dressed, this train is leaving in an hour," Hal chimed in.

Quickly finishing the rest of their breakfast the boys put their dishes in the sink, helped to clear the table then headed upstairs after Marta started shooing them out of the kitchen, "Better hurry up boys, time is running out. You all can clean up after dinner." She laughed as they headed up the stairs. She loved the sound of a full house and had sometimes wished that she had given Max a brother or two. She saw the bond the Winchester boys had with each other and wished that Max would have known that. She laughed even harder when she heard Sam yell to Dean that just because he was oldest didn't always mean he got to shower first and that he had better save him some hot water.

An hour later the boys were piled in Hal's truck, Dean riding shotgun so Sam and Max could ride in the back and continue their conversation from earlier. Dean sat listening to his brother laugh and joke around with Max and felt a twinge of jealousy. The feeling grew when it started to become evident that they were somehow privy to the big secret of the day. Dean once again felt left out of things and that was a feeling he didn't like.

Hal noticed the down turn in Dean's mood. He knew that the last couple of days had been hard on the boy and he hoped that today would help make up for it. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye then he heard a stunned gasp come from the occupant of the seat next to his. Sam and Max started to chuckle in the back seat as they passed the sign that read, Gilmont Red Barn Car Show Parking this way.

Dean didn't dare to believe that they were heading to the car show. The last time he had been in town Hal had told him all about it. He had pictured in his mind the acres of private show cars and the barns that were full of the car museum's permanent display cars and miscellanous car memorabilia. He had wanted to come back for the show but their schedule had never allowed for it. Please, he silently prayed, don't let this be a dream. He let out the breath he was holding when Hal turned into the parking area and he realized that the dream was actually reality.

They helped Hal get his golf cart off the trailer he had hauled it there on and they all climbed in. Dean was so excited that he wanted to hit the barns right away but Hal had insisted on heading out to the field farthest away first. Dean reluctantly agreed and Hal headed that way. A ten minute cart ride later they pulled up to a car that was suspiciously familiar to the oldest Winchester boy. John walked up behind his son and placed his hand on his shoulder causing him to turn around. Dean looked at his father as the realization and shock of what was happening set in. John smiled, "Surprise."

"Wait…..what the …are you serious," Dean stammered as he got out of the cart and headed over to his baby. She gleamed in the summer sun her body having been washed and waxed to perfection. Her interior looked almost as good as the day she had rolled off the assembly line. He reached out to touch her but hesitated and turned back to his dad, "How…when….why?"

John and the others laughed. "Breath, Dean," John answered, "You remember when Steven asked and I turned him down. Well a day ago I decided it would be alright. We had agreed that it had to be shown in Hal's name, so we could stay out of the spotlight and well yesterday Sam, Max, Hal, Steven and I cleaned her up for you. As for why, well because you deserve it."

"Thanks, dad," Dean replied unable to take his eyes off his baby, "Thanks all of you."

"You're welcome son," John said, "Now how about we hit those barns and look at the other cars that are here? Whatcha say?"

"Sure. And, dad thanks again."

John clapped his son on the back, "You're welcome. How about we start over there?"


	12. Chapter 12

The day had gone just as John had prayed it would. He spent the day going from barn to barn and along aisle upon aisle of displayed cars joking and laughing with his sons. He watched as his oldest let his guard down enough so he could relax and really enjoy himself. He noticed that a spark had returned to his oldest son's eyes and for a brief moment lamented the fact that their lives wouldn't allow for it to remain. Shaking his head John pushed that thought out of his mind. Today was their day off and come Hell or high water they were going to enjoy it.

Dean at first had been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of vehicles that sat waiting to be admired that he didn't know where to begin and was more than happy to follow his dads lead. That was until, while standing in line at the pretzel cart he heard about the muscle car exhibit located in a barn on the other side of the grounds. The gentleman who was telling his friend about it mentioned that the best part for him was taking the double-decker bus ride to the barn.

Dean headed back to his dad, Sam and Max pretzels in hand and a big smile on his face. He handed Sam and Max their pretzel then turned and handed John his. He told his dad about what he had overheard and asked if they could go. John thought it sounded like fun and started over to the line for the bus. Sam and Max decided that they weren't too interested in the bus ride or the cars and headed off to the barn that held some of the original props for the movie Darby O'Gill and the Little People. They had agreed to meet back at the Imapla in about forty-five minutes.

Dean decided he wanted to ride on the upper-deck of the bus, even if it wasn't an open air ride like some he had seen on tv, he just wanted the experience. He quietly watched the people and rows of cars as they passed by and wished that this day could go on forever. He liked seeing his dad having a good time and not worrying about what the night would bring. He liked being a normal family.

They reached their stop, piled out of the bus with the other passengers and headed for the muscle car exhibit. The barn was smaller then the others up on the main grounds and held only a few cars, but it quickly became Dean's favorite spot for the day. He was disappointed that there wasn't any Impala's on display but he had to admit that the Mustang's, Camaro's and Corvette's made up for it, well at least a little They had finished looking through the barn in time to catch the next bus ride back.

Dean and John made it back to the Impala around the same time Max and Sam did. Hal looked at his watch and noted that it was getting close to five and that they should probably get the car loaded back on to its trailer so that John and Steven could take her back to his house. Dean didn't care too much for that idea; he had wanted to drive her home.

John reminded him that they needed to keep the appearance up that the car belonged to Hal and that he would have plenty of time to drive her later, Dean reluctantly gave in. John let out a sigh of relief as the need to keep the appearance up wasn't the only reason he didn't want Dean to drive. John could tell that his son was hurting, even if he did his best to hide it. He knew that Dean was tired from the walking they had been doing and he could tell that his arm was beginning to bother him. He felt it best that he not drive while feeling like this.

Hal clapped Dean on his back and told him to take a seat on the golf cart and he would drive them back to his car. Sam and Max had wondered off a little ways to talk to a guy Max knew when they noticed Hal pulling away. John found himself laughing yet again as he watched his youngest son and their family friend chase down the cart trying to get a ride back as well.

While Sam and Max helped Hal load the golf cart back onto its trailer, Dean went off to use the restroom. He had finished washing his hands and was tossing the paper towel in the wastebasket when without warning he found himself locked in a choke hold. The person had snuck up from behind and wrapped their arm around his neck and was slowly cutting off his oxygen supply.

Damn, Dean thought to himself. He had taken one of his pain meds about a half hour before and it had chosen this time to start working, dulling his senses and allowing for him to be jumped by surprise. He had thought that it would be alright to take one since he wasn't driving or anything and his arm had really been bothering him. He wasn't that hungry and figured that he would just go up to bed as soon as they had gotten back to Hal's. It hadn't sounded like that bad of an idea, but now, well now he wasn't so sure.

Doing his best to focus Dean shoved his elbow back, as hard as he could, into the stomach of the person who was holding him. He heard the person grunt as his elbow made contact, but the blow lacked the necessary force to do anything more than irritate his attacker. His unknown assailant rammed him face first into the wall, held him there with one hand and punched him in his kidney with the other.

Stunned, Dean felt his knees give way and he dropped to them gasping for air, his arms wrapped around his middle. Reaching out with his good arm, he grabbed a hold of the closest sink and tried to pull himself up. His assailant laughed as he stood watching him struggle. Bending down so his lips were pressed next to Dean's ear the man sneered, "I don't suppose you're feeling to up for a rematch right now, are you? I don't know how you did it, but somehow you rigged that race, I was the best, there was no way you should have won. Especially in that pile of crap you were passing off as a car."

Having managed to get to his feet Dean turned around. "Jonah," he hissed holding onto his injured side, "I didn't have to rig the race; me and my baby were just way better then you and yours." Dean staggered as he fought to stay awake, the effects of the medication he had taken were going into full swing and he felt himself being pulled into unconsciousness.

Jonah snarled, drew his fist back and thrust it forward delivering a crushing blow to the center of Dean's face. The blow sent Dean stumbling backwards causing him to trip and fall; hitting his head on the sink he had used to pull himself up with. Dean lost his fight to remain too conscious and he fell into a limp heap on the bathroom floor.

Sam who had began to wonder what was taking his brother so long had walked into the bathroom right as Jonah's punch sent Dean stumbling back. Angered by what he had just witnessed Sam jumped his brothers attacker from behind knocking the stunned man, face first to the floor. Jonah hit his head against the hard tiled surface and blacked out.

Satisfied that the man was no longer a threat to his brother, Sam went to check on Dean. He felt for his brother's pulse after making sure it was steady and strong he began to check his brother over for signs of broken bones or other serious injury. He found a bruise forming at the spot where Jonah had first hit his brother, and took in the sight of the blood still flowing from his brother's broken nose. Clenching his hands he stood and walked to the bathroom entrance, keeping an eye on his brother and Jonah, he pulled the door open and called for Max and Hal to come help.

Hal couldn't believe what he saw right in front of his own eyes. It had been three years since Jonah had lost to Dean; to keep a grudge that long was unconceivable to him. Hal had heard through the grapevine that the loss had been hard on Jonah. Rumor had it that Jonah's father had beaten him whenever he lost. That was why Jonah strived so hard to be the best. The night that Jonah had lost to Dean his father had beaten him so severely that the injuries caused by that beating prevented him from ever being able to race again. Jonah had promised that he would get even with the one person he had blamed for his misfortune, no matter how long it took. It looked as if he had made good on that promise.


	13. Chapter 13

Across town, in the room that Hattie and Nathanel had met their untimely deaths, a woman nervously paced. From time to time she would flicker then fade out only to reappear. She was wearing a long dress that resembled the ones women used to wear in the late 1870's. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her face was twisted in anger.

Her eyes burned with a fury that she hadn't felt in years. She cursed the young man and his father for taking Hattie away from her. Her rage smoldered as she thought of how they sparred the young harlot from eternal damnation at her hands. She let out a primal scream when she thought of how, yet once again; her Nathanel had chosen the cheap whore over his own mother.

In death, much like in life, Caroline Johnson was a proud and demanding woman. Her husband had died young leaving her alone to care for their children. Soon she had started what was to become one of the most successful specialty stores in her area; a rare accomplishment for women back in her day, especially one who was a widow with young children. Caroline single-handedly raised her family from living on the streets to living in the grandest mansion her money could build.

Her oldest, Nathanel had tried hard to follow in his mother's footsteps and to make her proud, but he wasn't interested in baking. No, Nathanel wanted to become a doctor, a profession that Caroline detested as she blamed her husband's doctor for his death. She cut off all support for Nathanel, a move which forced the young man to work while he went to school. Finding himself unable to earn the money needed to complete medical school, Nathanel held onto his dream the best he could and he worked his way through nursing school.

Nathanel had begun working at the State Hospital, as an orderly at the Gate House almost immediately after his graduation. His lack of experience proved to be a weakness and he found himself falling in love with a patient on his floor. Caroline's image flickered then grew stronger as in a fit of rage she violently tossed a chair across the room. She let out another scream as she remembered the scandal her son's affair had caused in the community. The social status she had worked so hard for was ripped to shreds as the whispers and looks began.

She could still hear their whispers as she walked around the small room, "There goes Caroline, oh my, how I do feel for her. Can you imagine the shame she must be feeling? I mean her son carrying on with a married woman and getting her pregnant no less. I can't fathom the humiliation she must be suffering."

"Humiliation," Caroline huffed, "Damn right I was humiliated. My son with a married woman, as if that wasn't bad enough, he choose one who had a mental deficiency as well." Caroline stopped her pacing and looked out the window at the darkness that lay just beyond its glass, "I did what I had to. I couldn't allow what they had done to tear apart all that I had worked so hard to build. They had to be punished….to be dealt with. Their transgression could not be left unchecked."

Caroline sat on a chair and felt the tears as they began to fall from her eyes. The images of that night flashed before her, she saw Hattie as she sat by the window humming lullabies while she looked out at the stars. She saw the thallium filled syringe as it was thrust in Hattie's direction only to be batted away, at the last second, by her son. She saw the fight that ensued between her and Nathanel which ended with the needle and its contents being emptied into his arm. She heard Hattie's startled screams and begs for her life as she advanced on the younger woman, the knife that she had taken to carrying held in her hand. She saw the knife plunged deep into the younger woman's breast and heard the last gurgled breaths escape her body. But, most of all she saw her sons dead eyes staring back at her, their once vibrant green light forever turned dull.

Angrily brushing at the tears Caroline once again stood up. She had often wondered why her son had been sparred the agony of reliving that night every year, when she and Hattie had not. Now she knew, by some miracle her son had been reborn and was again here. Caroline dared to hope, for a moment, that she could ask her son to forgive her. She prayed that by receiving his forgiveness she could be set free and move on to her eternal rest. Her eyes that had softened at the hope, hardened again as she remembered the events of the previous day.

"Nathanel, will never forgive you," she hissed, "he proved that yesterday when yet again he choose to protect the dirty little tramp." Her pacing increased and her voice grew louder, "He hurt you yesterday," she said to herself, "Don't you remember? He hurt you when he threw that salt on you. He knew what he was doing, but he didn't hesitate. I guess dying didn't teach him anything about family loyalty the first time. I wonder if the second time will."

Her energy having been spent Caroline flickered out one last time still picturing the panic in her Nathanel's eyes when she held his throat in her icy grip, a shrill laugh was the last sound in the room before silence took over.


	14. Chapter 14

A true albeit sad fact of John Winchester's life was that waiting in hospital waiting rooms was a common occurrence in his life. It was a fact he had come to accept and at times even expect, except this time. This time things were different. This time they hadn't been staking out or even hunting some supernatural creature that had somehow gotten the jump on them. No this time, they had spent the day as a family having a good time enjoying themselves, for once all their worries pushed to the back of their minds.

This time it was another human being who had gotten the jump on his son. Another human who had decided that revenge was in fact a dish best served cold. Another human who had held onto his anger and resentment for three years and let it out the first chance he got. Another human who had better to pray to the good lord that he and John would never cross paths; because if they did John wouldn't care that he was human, all John would care about was the pain he had caused his son.

John looked over to his youngest who was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. He could tell by the look on his face the boy was feeling guilty. He knew that Sam blamed himself for Dean being injured. He knew that Sam thought it was all his fault because Jonah wouldn't have had a need to be angry with Dean if Dean hadn't won the race and he felt it was his fault because he had let his brother go off on his own and he hadn't been there to keep things from escalating to the point they had. John knew these things, because Hal had told him. Hal had known because Sam had told him.

Sam had been talking to Dean on the ride to the hospital. He had told his brother about how sorry he was. He had begged his brother to wake up and forgive him. He thanked his brother for everything he had done for him and promised that once he was better he, Sam, would make it up to him. Hal and Max had sat quietly, neither one wanting to intrude on, what they thought to be a private time between Sam and his brother. Hal did, however, make note of what was said and pulled John off to a corner to explain, as soon as John had shown up at the hospital, to him the state Sam was in.

John stood and walked over to where Sam was sitting. He sat down on the chair next to his youngest and gently placed his hand under the boys chin. Softly he turned Sam's face towards him and lifted his head so he could look into the boy's eyes. John's heart sank at the quilt that he saw in his baby's hazel eyes. He wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him close. He held onto his boy as he felt his son's sobs start to shake his body.

"Dad, I'm sorry," Sam cried as he hugged John tighter needing to feel his father close, "I should have gone with him. I knew his arm was bothering him and I thought that he had taken a pain pill, but I wasn't sure. You know Dean, I was going to go with him, but he insisted that he was fine and that I stay and help Max and Hal. I should have felt something was wrong. I just should have known."

John broke the hug, lifted Sam's face and gently wiped away the tears. "Sam, I promise you that none of this is your fault," he said his voice holding a tender quality reserved for moments like this, "You didn't make Dean enter that race three years ago. You didn't help Jonah carry the anger for all those years. You didn't push Dean down the stairs a few days ago or break his arm. You didn't give your brother the pill to take that caused him to lose his edge. But, most of all you had no reason to think that anything like this would happen. You're right I know your brother and I can tell you this that if you had followed him into the bathroom it would be he and I out here waiting on news about you," John paused and smiled at the slight upturn in his youngest lips.

A soft cough from the waiting rooms door caused both John and Sam to turn their attention in that direction. Hal stood in the doorway smiling and motioned for the father and son to follow him. "Dean's awake and he's doing well," Hal explained to his friends as they followed him down the hall, "We checked him thoroughly and even though I'm still concerned over his having hit his head twice in a week I can tell you he should be released in a few days. I can also tell you that he's not happy about having to stay here that long."

Sam laughed, "I bet he's not."

Hal laughed along with Sam, "You should have heard him. He got Nurse Helen so riled up that she threatened to administer a sedative in his whiny hiney, her words not mine, if he didn't straighten up."

John laughed harder as he pictured the look on his grown sons face after having been threatened with that, "You know Hal I think it's in the best interest of everyone if those two are kept away from each other."


	15. Chapter 15

Dean was sitting up in his bed, his back propped up by some pillows; his face a multi-colored mass of black's, blue's and purple's. His nose was covered with what looked like a metal brace held in place by first aid adhesive tape and both of his eyes were almost completely swollen shut. He had seen better days, but then again he had also seen worse.

He sat his arms crossed over his chest, sulking, as the doctor on duty was once again explaining to him the reasons why he had to be kept overnight. Nurse Helen stood right behind the doctor her arms crossed in the same fashion as Dean's. In her twenty years as a nurse she had never encountered a patient as difficult as this young man was. She understood his not wanting to be held in the hospital for any longer then he felt necessary, she did. However, it was the depth of that feeling that puzzled her.

A soft knock on the room's door caused Nurse Helen to turn towards it. She watched as a handsome dark haired older man entered the room followed by a just as handsome dark haired younger man. She turned in time to notice her patient's body language go from defensive to relaxed as he saw the two men enter. This must be his father and brother, she thought to herself. She inwardly smiled as she noticed how tall the younger brother was in comparison to the older one. Her inward smile was followed by an inward sigh as she didn't fail to appreciate the gene pool this family was swimming in.

The younger man walked over to her patient's bed and placed his hand on his brother's and with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth he teasingly said, "You know Dean, I think Jonah did you a favor. No, seriously dude," he kept teasing, "I swear he improved your look. You know a lot of people pay a lot of money to have their face rearranged like this, but he did it for you free."

"Very funny, Sammy," Dean jibbed back, "You just wait until I get out of here. I'll show you an improved look. I think I'll shave that shaggy dog off your head first, followed closely by shaving your equally shaggy brows."

"Hey," Sam piped in trying to sound genuinely offended, "My brows aren't shaggy, jerk."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately, bitch? You're starting to resemble a wooly mammoth."

"Boy's," John chimed in. Looking at Nurse Helen he said apologetically, "I'm sorry. They know better then to behave like this. I have told them time and time again to watch their language"

Nurse Helen just smiled, "It's alright, boys will be boys after all." She watched as the two brothers interacted and realized the reason behind her patient's strong desire to leave, he didn't want to be separated from his brother. She could see the connection between the two of them and she felt the older brothers need to have his younger brother with him. She found the connection endearing but at the same time she realized that a need that strong wasn't healthy. She had seen dependency like this turn disastrous when the dependant one lost the other.

"Dad," Dean began, bringing Nurse Helen out of her thoughts. "I'm fine. I can get the rest and supervision the doctor thinks I need at Hal's. Come on, don't make me stay here. You know how I feel about hospitals."

John, sighed, he knew how Dean felt hospitals. He knew how vulnerable his son felt out in the open like this. Hell, he felt the same way. An overextended stay brought a greater risk of being found out for insurance fraud and left them wide open for an attack if any supernatural nasty decided a doped up Winchester was to easy a target to pass up.

But, John also understood the dangers of taking his son out of the hospital to early. He knew the severity of the injuries out weighed any of the other risks. John also knew that Dean was now old enough to sign himself out and that he would have to order his son to stay put. It was just for a couple of days.

Bracing himself for the protest he was sure to come John spoke up, "Dean, I agree you need to stay," he raised his hand to stave off Dean's impending protest, "Look son you have had two nasty spills this week each resulting in you hitting your head on something hard. Under normal circumstances I would agree that you could recover at Hal's but, these are not normal circumstances. Both instances occurred within just a few days of each other and the risks are too high that something hidden could be wrong. I would feel better if you stayed here, where they will be able to better monitor you. Don't make me have to order you to stay."

For once John was happy he couldn't see his son's eyes. He was happy that he couldn't see the disappointment and betrayal that Dean had to be feeling since his last chance at breaking out had been closed off; feeling those emotions as they came off his son was more than enough. John pulled a chair up to his son's bedside and sat down, "Look Dean, I'm sorry. I know how you feel, but it's just for a couple of days. Sam and I will be here and so will Hal and Max. I'll even bet that if you're a real good boy we could convince Marta to bake you some of your favorite pie's when you get out."

Hal nodded in agreement to that statement, "Dean, if you won't stay for yourself, could you at least stay for us, please? Marta hasn't baked as much lately as she has with you guys here. I sure could go for some her homemade apple pie about right now."

"If you can convince her to make it a Double Chocolate with Peanut Butter pie, you have a deal," Dean conceded. He knew that he wasn't going anywhere and that the more he fought the harder things would be for him later.

John turned to Sam and Hal, "Why don't you two head on home. I'll stay with Dean until visiting hours are over and I'll meet you back at the house. I'm sure Max is more than ready to get home."

Sam shook his head, "No, I want to stay. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me."

"Sammy," Dean said his voice a mixture of emotions, "This isn't your fault. There wasn't anything you could have done. In fact, I think I owe you one, man. If you hadn't come in to check on me when you did, who knows what that psycho would have done? You saved my life, I'm sure of it. Go on, I know you have to be tired, not to mention hungry. I'll see you tomorrow. You can bring me something better to eat then the stuff I'm sure they'll be trying to pass off as food here."

Sam grudgingly followed Hal out of the room. Nurse Helen watched the two brother's as the youngest one left. That relationship is gonna end in disaster for the two of them if they don't get their dependency under control, she thought to herself as she also left her patient and his father alone.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam sat in his room leafing through some papers that he had copied while he had been searching the museums records, his dinner sat forgotten and half-eaten on a tray by his bed. He was missing something, he could feel it. His conversation with Hattie was playing over and over in his mind. She had told him that someone else was causing the deaths and injuries, someone that she herself was terrified of. She seemed honestly afraid, which was odd for a spirit, or at least it seemed odd to Sam.

Then there was the feeling Sam had had that night. He had felt another presence, something darker more evil. He had kept that bit of information from his dad, because Sam didn't know how John would have reacted. The way John had reacted when Sam had told him how he had talked to Hattie and the look that flashed through his father's eyes had convinced Sam the best thing to do was not to tell him about his feeling.

A connection to Nathanel, Sam thought. Hattie had told him that the person had had a connection to Nathanel and was admitted shortly after their deaths. Look in the records, Hattie's voice whispered in his mind. "Damn it," Sam yelled in frustration throwing the papers from his bed with a swipe of his arm, "I am checking the records. Something's still missing."

His eyes began to burn as tears of frustration prickled at their corners waiting to fall. Sitting back down on the bed he hung his head, chin resting on his chest as the first bead of moisture trickled out. Angrily he brushed the offensive teardrop from his cheek and took a breath to calm himself down.

He sighed as someone knocked on his door and his head snapped up when he heard his father's voice, "Sam, everything ok, son?"

Rubbing his temples Sam replied, "Yeah, dad, everything's fine." Sam hoped that his father would accept that answer and leave him alone, but his hopes were soon dashed.

"So, who were yelling at and what was that bang I heard," John queried, his voice letting Sam know that he wasn't going to just let this go.

Sighing once again and counting to ten to steady himself Sam got up from the bed and let his father into the room. He watched as his father took in the half-eaten dinner left on the tray and the papers that were scattered all over the floor. Inwardly moaning Sam lowered his eyes when his dad turned his gaze on him.

John knew what was going on. He knew what had his youngest so upset. He bent down, picked a heavy binder up and set it back down on the bed. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that was the cause of the noise he had heard. Without a word John started to pick the papers up and place them down on the bed. Sam joined him and they worked together, picking up the papers, neither man speaking.

After the final piece of paper had been picked up off the floor and laid back on Sam's bed John sat down on Dean's empty bed. Dean's empty bed, John thought to himself, how many times had Dean's bed been left empty because he was in some hospital somewhere, recovering from almost every kind of injury that could be inflicted on a human. Why did it always seem to be his oldest that was constantly in the line of fire, getting hurt? Was it some sick cosmic joke the universe was playing on he and his son?

A quiet cough from Sam had John refocusing his attention back onto his youngest. Running a hand threw his hair he let out a breath and then, "Sam, look I know you really believe that there is something more going on at the museum and that Hattie wasn't behind the attacks. I also know that I told you could look into it further, even though all the facts point to Hattie; but, if it's going to upset you this much I'll pull the plug on it. You understand me son?"

Sam sat on his bed looking at the floor until his father's last words forced him to look up. Would his dad really keep him from looking into this further? Was his dad really willing to let a hunt go unfinished; because as far as Sam was concerned this one wasn't finished. One look in his father's eyes and Sam could tell that he would.

Sam placed his elbows on his knees and clasped his together. He looked his father square in the eyes and answered back, "Dad, you can't do that. I know that everything points to Hattie, but it wasn't her." Sam saw his father getting ready to speak so he quickly answered his father's unspoken question, "Yes, dad, I know it wasn't her because she told me. The answer is here somewhere in this pile of papers or it's still in the hospital's record room, but somewhere out there is the answer and I'm going to find it before someone else gets hurt or worse killed."

And there it was. John leaned forward his posture imitating that of his son's, "Sam, what happened to Dean wasn't your fault." John caught the look his son shot him, "Look, Sam, I know that I told you it was and there is no excuse for the way I spoke to you then. All I can say is that I was angry and feeling guilty myself. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I know that you had done as thorough a job as you could have given the resources we had. If it will make you feel better I won't stop you from looking into this. Ok?"

"Ok, thanks dad," Sam said. John stood to leave and Sam tentatively reached out to stop him, "Hey dad, do you think that we could go see Dean first thing in the morning? I was hoping that you would run me to the museum tomorrow so I could dig through the old records some more. I already spoke to Livi and she said it would be alright. She said she'd be free to let me in at about 1:00."

"Sure Sam. But, I don't want you to say anything about this to your brother, alright? If he heard that you were still looking into this he would insist on helping and right now that's the last your brother needs."

Sam smiled, "Thanks dad, and I swear I won't say a word to Dean." 


	17. Chapter 17

Sam woke the next morning quickly showered and dressed then headed down to the kitchen to get some breakfast. The aroma of pancakes, bacon and eggs wafting through the house reminded him of how hungry he really was and he took the stairs two at time in a hurried rush to quiet his now rumbling stomach. He entered in time to see Marta place the last platter of food on the table. His face broke out in a smile. "Smiles and looks great Mrs. Williams," Sam said as he offered to help set out the plates and silverware.

Marta couldn't help but smile at Sam; she had always held a fondness for the boy. He reminded her of herself when she was seventeen. He had this seemingly boundless energy and thirst for knowledge that would at times break her heart. She wasn't foolish enough to think that John would ever allow him to go away to school, to actually follow his own dreams. Marta knew that would never happen. Still, she prayed that by some small miracle it might just happen. She looked at Sam and sent that prayer out right then, just in case someone listening.

It wasn't to late for Sam to be something, do something different. Sam hadn't become so enveloped in the life that he couldn't see a different for himself. Sam still held onto most of innocence, he had become hardened and jaded like his brother and worse yet like his father. Marta frowned, as she thought of Dean and all that he had lost as a result of his father's single minded quest to find and kill the monster that had taken his wife, their mother, from them.

Marta shook her head, Dean hadn't lost anything; no, he had sacrificed everything to protect the one person who meant everything to him in this world. Dean had given up his childhood, his dreams in the hope that Sam wouldn't have too. Dean had pushed himself to be exactly what their father wanted with the naive wish that that would be enough for him.

Marta's lips turned up in a melancholy smile as she sent out a silent prayer for Dean as well. Lord, she prayed, I know it's too late to change his course now; he has set himself steadfastly upon it. I pray Lord that someday you will allow for him to find the real happiness that he so richly deserves. Watch over and guide his steps Heavenly Father as he navigates through the darkest side of this beautiful world you have set for us. Father, his life has been given to the service of those who surround him even as they don't offer him more than a passing glance. He has dedicated himself to protecting those who are unable to protect themselves. I pray that someday he will reap the rewards that someone such as he will earn. Amen.

Sam had put the last fork on the table when he looked at Marta and noticed the she was sadly staring off into space. He walked over to where she was standing and gently placed his hand on her arm. "Mrs. Williams," he softly asked, "is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, yes, Sam everything is fine. I guess I was just lost in my thoughts for a moment," Marta answered. Chuckling Marta pulled a chair out and directed Sam to sit down, "Here you go Sam. I can hear the rest of the heard coming and with the way that your dad, Hal and Max can pile it in, you better get a started." Laughing along with her Sam loaded his plate up and began to eat.

Mrs. Dolores Sweetbridge was used to the double takes people would often give her. She looked exactly like one would picture Mrs. Claus as looking if Mrs. Claus wore a nurse's uniform to work everyday. Her silver hair was always pulled into a lose bun at the top of her head, her nose and cheeks were always rosy and she even wore the round granny glasses complete with a red and green beaded glasses chain holding them in place. Many would have said that Mrs. Dolores Sweetbridge also the possessed the same sweet disposition as Mrs. Claus, that is unless you crossed her then she possessed the same horrid disposition as one Agatha Hannigan.

It wasn't to long after Nurse Helen had left for the night that Mrs. Sweetbridge decided to go check on the patient that had been admitted that day with the head injuries. Mrs. Sweetbridge knew that it was common practice to wake a person who had hit their head, at least once during the night, to check and see if there were signs that their condition may have taken a turn for the worse.

Dolores quietly entered the room and turned the lights on. Silently she walked over to the patient's bed and placed her hand softly on his shoulder. Dolores gave the sleeping man's shoulder a slight shake as she whispered for him to wake. She waited a few moments then repeated the gesture. Her patient stirred and intelligibly mumbled something but he still didn't wake. Frowning Dolores shook the young man's shoulder a little more forcibly and found herself most shocked by the reaction she received.

Without thinking about what he was doing Dean brushed the hand from his shoulder and hissed out, "If you value your life you'll stop what you're doing, bitch."

Dolores, having been a nurse for more than 20 years, understood full well that the young man was more than likely not aware of what was going on; however, she couldn't help but feel a little bit offended by the comment. "Excuse me," she ground out.

"I said if you value your life you'll stop what you're doing…." Dean repeated but was interrupted before he could finish a second time.

"Young man," Dolores chastised, "I don't know who you think you're talking to, but I would appreciate it if you didn't finish that sentence."

Dean opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Remembering where he was, he focused his attention on the woman who was standing next to his bed. His face turned red as realization of what had just occurred fully hit him. "I….I'm sorry ma'am," he squeaked out, "I forgot where I was for a moment. I thought you were my kid brother."

Dolores did her best not to grin, but found it impossible not to. She wouldn't have believed that a face so covered in blacks, blues and purples could have turned so red, but here was the proof laying right there before her. "I would hope you're sorry," she said and winked at him. She found herself liking this young man, "I'll forgive you this time. I'm sorry to have woken you, but I need to check on your condition. With head injuries we like to make sure things haven't progressed and that everything is going well."

Dolores quickly looked the young man over and then left him to go back to sleep. She stood outside his room looking in at him for a minute before she closed the door and went about the rest of her rounds. There is something special about that one that she thought. Something special indeed. 


	18. Chapter 18

Sam stepped off the elevator clutching a brown paper bag; the aroma of fresh baked muffins filling his nostrils making his stomach grumble even though he was full. The black coffee he was holding in his other hand smelt almost as good and he hoped that his brother would be happy with the breakfast he was bringing him.

John was hoping that the doctor would give Dean the ok to go home. Sam knew how much his brother hated hospitals and he wanted him to be released soon, but secretly he hoped that the doctor would suggest Dean stay one more night. Sam knew that his continued investigation at the museum was dependant on his brother not finding out. John had made it clear that he thought the case was closed, but John also understood that Dean wouldn't settle for Sam to go digging further on his own. The only way Sam could be certain he could keep looking into things was if Dean was hold up in the hospital.

Sam opened the door to his brother's room and went inside. He noticed that the blinds had been opened and that the television was off. He heard his brother's voice going on about how he couldn't believe someone was such a cheat and then he heard another, unfamiliar voice laugh and go on about how she couldn't believe he was such a sore loser. Sam cleared his throat and two sets of eyes looked over at him.

Sam immediately recognized his brother's green eyes, but the sparkling blue eyes behind the granny glasses he had never seen before. Dean's entire face lit up at the confused look his brother had. Sam noticed that the strange blue eye's also sparkled a little more with amusement at his apparent confusion. Dean placed the cards he was holding down on his tray and motioned for Sam to take a seat on the empty chair by his bed. Dean was sure he knew what Sam was thinking and a smile broke out on his lips. Oh, Sam if you only knew, Dean thought to himself.

Sam took the offered seat and placed the bag of muffins and coffee down on the tray beside his brother's discarded cards. Dean hit his head harder than we thought; Sam thought to himself, he normally doesn't get along with the more mature nurses like this. Dean could tell by the look Sam was now giving him and Dolores that he was right. He also knew that Sam was right; normally Dean had personality conflicts with the older nurses, however, Dolores was different. A soft cough off to their left had both boys looking in that direction.

"Dolores, this is my brother Sam," he said to the nurse sitting on his left. "Sam, this Dolores," he said to his brother.

Sam reached across his brother and took Dolores offered hand, "Nice to meet, ma'am. I hope my brother hasn't been too much trouble for you."

"Nice to meet you, as well Sam," Dolores replied, "Your brother has been no trouble at all. In fact he has been an absolute delight." Dolores stood to leave, "Thank you for the poker lesson, but my break is almost over. Maybe we can play another hand just before I head off for home?"  
"No offense, Dolores, but I hope to be gone before you head home," Dean answered back.

Dolores smiled and shook her head at the young man, "None taken. Besides I'm not sure your ego could take me winning again."

Sam watched as the woman left the room. Hearing paper crinkling, Sam turned back as his brother took his first bite of one of Marta's blueberry muffins. Sam's lips turned up in a smile as Dean mmm'd and yumm'd his way through the four muffin's Marta had sent. Dean finished off the coffee and turned his attention to Sam. "So, where's dad? Is he talking to the doctor?"

"Yep," Sam said, "I left him on the main floor. He should be up anytime soon."

Right on cue, John entered his son's room and sat on the chair Dolores had a few moments ago vacated. He looked at his oldest and his chest constricted, Just give five minutes alone with the creep who did this, please, and I wont ask for anything else, he thought. "Well," John heard Dean say.

John smiled; he knew what his oldest wanted to know. "The doctor said that you are doing fine. He would like for you to stay another night, but said it was more precautionary than necessary so…I guess as soon as you have signed all the necessary paperwork you'll be free to go."

Sam seemed less then excited by the news and Dean couldn't figure what the problem could be. Just last night Sam was refusing to leave, had to be ordered to; and now he looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. John noticed Sam's reaction as well and could tell by the look Dean was giving him that he had too. "Hey, Sam can I get you to go down to the cafeteria and get me a cup of joe? I'm going to go to the nurse's station and see if they have your brother's paperwork ready."

Once they were outside Dean's room John lit into Sam, "What the hell is wrong with you Sam? Don't you want your brother to come home?"

Sam chewed on his lower lip and shuffled his feet, "It's not that I don't want him to come home. But, where does this leave my investigation? You can't very well drop me off at the museum with Dean in the car. Can you?"

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sam was more worried about a case that was closed than his own brother. Of course he shouldn't have been too surprised; Sam was getting more and more selfish lately. John drew in a deep breath to settle himself down, but wasn't as successful as he thought. "Sam, I can't believe you just said that. I mean I shouldn't be so surprised, after all you have been growing increasingly selfish as of late. After, all your brother has done for you, you have the nerve to be upset that he is getting to come home today. For your information I called Max before I came up here and he said he would drive you to the museum. Dean doesn't need to know anything about it. I'm thinking that maybe I should just cancel that and make you come home with us."

Mrs. Sweetbridge had completed her rounds and was bringing Dean his paperwork when she overheard the rather heated words coming from the father to his son. She briskly walked over to where John and Sam were standing and positioned herself her between them. Looking up at the man who towered over her, she raised her finger and pointed it at his face, "Young man I swear if you don't lower your voice and calm yourself I will have you removed from this hospital. I will also take this paperwork back to the nurse's station and convince his doctor to keep him one more day. Your son was seriously injured and he is going to need your support to get through this." Spinning on her heels she directed her next comments at Sam, "As for you, young man, you are all your brother thinks about. He couldn't stop telling me about you while we were playing cards. You should count yourself lucky that you have someone like him your life. Now if you both can give me your word that you have gotten this out of your system I will continue on to his room, however, if the opposite is true I will go back to the nurse's station."

John stood blinking, his mouth hanging open in shock, "No need for that. Dean is anxious to get out of here and I'm anxious to get him home."

Sam looked just as shocked, "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Well good," Dolores stated coldly. "I'm going to take these into him, have him fill them out and he'll be set to go. I suggest you go bring the car around to the patient pick-up area and we'll meet you there," she said to John. "As for you I suggest you and meet this friend of yours and get on to doing what was so important to you," she said to Sam as she entered Dean's room.

Dolores watched as Dean filled out the needed papers and listened to her instructions. She could tell the young man was indeed anxious to leave, but couldn't understand why with the display she had witnessed in the hallway. She gave him the privacy needed so he could get dressed and pulled the wheelchair up to his bed. She helped him sit down and then wheeled him to the patient pick-up area. Her heart was feeling heavy as he stood and walked to the waiting car. She really didn't know the boy and she never really would, but that didn't matter, there was something about him, something special.

She was jolted back from her thoughts when she felt a tender kiss on her cheek. "You know Dolores," Dean said, "out of all the nurses I have met, you have to be favorite. Thanks."

Dolores blushed and showed the boy towards the car, "You take care of yourself, you here. I don't want to see you here again, unless your stopping by to get beat in a solid hand of poker."

Dean smiled at her and closed the door to his classic beauty. He wasn't driving but that was ok, at least he was going home. He looked in the back seat and didn't see Sam sitting there. He looked at his dad and noticed that his jaw was clenched and he had a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Afraid to ask, but more afraid not to know he asked, "Hey dad didn't we forget someone? Where's Sam?"

John kept his eyes on the road, he couldn't risk glancing at Dean and having the boy figure out he was lying, even though technically he wasn't, "Max came by, he said something about having promised to take somewhere and that they wouldn't be back to late. I thought it would be good for you to go back to the house and get settled in before they got back. Maybe you can grab some sleep or something while the house is quiet."

Dean could tell his dad was lying. John hadn't looked at him, that was the tell. Something was bothering his dad and he wanted to know what it was but he could sense his dad not wanting to talk about it right now so he let it go. He laid his head against the car's seat and closed his eyes, "Sounds like a plan. You think I could score some lunch before being sent off to nap."

John couldn't help but smile, "Sure, what sounds good? I think Marta said something about making some of her chicken noodle soup for you. It should be ready by the time we get back."

"Sounds good," Dean replied.


	19. Chapter 19

Max had been told that John was allowing Sam to check into something on his own and he had expected Sam to be a little more excited than he was; heck he was expecting the boy to be bursting with energy. Instead, the boy sat quietly on the seat next to him looking out the passenger side window. Max cast a concerned look at Sam before he spoke, "Something the matter, Sam? I would have thought you would be a little more excited than you are." Sam didn't answer and Max became a little more concerned. "Sam," Max said a little more insistence in his voice, "what's wrong?"

Sam looked at Max and the look on the kids face tugged at the older man's heart. Something or someone had hurt Sam, had cut him to the quick. John, Max immediately concluded, it had to be John. Sam wasn't like this before he left the house this morning, only after he had been with John and Dean. Max was certain Dean wasn't in any shape to put his brother in such a mood or that he would even if he could. No, it had to be John! You stupid son of a bitch what did you do now.

Sam shifted and went back to looking out the window; his thoughts whirling in his head threatening to drive him insane. He was wondering if John really did see him as selfish, as putting himself first before either his dad or his brother. Of course he did, Sam thought as a small snort of anger escaped past his lips. Sam's eyes watered and the tears began to fall as he kept up his silent thoughts. Just yesterday Dad apologized to me. He told me that Dean's getting hurt wasn't my fault that I had done the best I could. He said he was proud of me, in his own way. He told me that I could continue looking on my own. He knows how much these means to me. He thinks I'm wrong. He thinks I'm wasting time, I know he does. I'll prove him wrong…..at least I hope I do.

Max watched Sam and wanted to question him further but decided against pushing the boy. Max turned his car onto the museum's drive and hit his brakes hard. The sudden stop caused Sam to slip forward and his seat belt to tighten around him. The sudden tightness of the belt caught Sam by surprise and he let out a small yelp. Looking at Max, Sam was about to ask him what the hell, when he noticed the look in Max's face and the direction in which he was staring.

Sam's eyes turned in that direction and his heart jumped into his throat. An ambulance was parked in front of the main entrance and someone was being loaded into it. Both boys jumped out of their car as quickly as they could and ran to where a small crowd had formed. Sam grabbed the arm of the first person he came to and asked what had happened. The girl looked at him, her eyes wild with panic. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself unable to.

From behind him Sam heard an angry males voice cut through the noise of the crowd, "I'll tell you what happened Winchester, Livvi was attacked again."

Sam spun around to find himself standing face to face with a very angry Steven Pettite. Max stepped up to stand beside Sam hoping that this small action would deter Steven from taking a swing at his friend. Sam stood his mouth hanging open, his mind racing yet again. I was right, it wasn't Hattie. Then looking at Steven, Sam thought, Oh, god I was right. It wasn't Hattie, and now Livvi's been hurt.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Winchester? I mean after all, I was told that you and your family were the best at what you do, but all I've seen is your brother wind up in the hospital…twice and now Livvi." Steven took a step closer to Sam his fists clenching and unclenching at his side.

Max stepped in between them and addressed Steven, "Look, settle down here. This wasn't Sam's fault…."

Steven huffed, "It's not Sam's fault? Then whose fault is it?" Steven looked past Max and straight into Sam's eyes. With his voice taking a chilling tone Steven continued, "I promise you if anything happens to Livvi or the baby you and your family will have more than spooks to worry about." With that said Steven turned on his heel and headed back to the ambulance. Sam watched as Steven climbed in and sat next to Livvi. The ambulance doors closed and they pulled away.

Sam's body began to shake as his anger began to grow. "Dammit, I told dad it wasn't Hattie. I told him," Sam said between clenched teeth. "But, you know that stupid stubborn son of a," Sam shook his head. Calming himself he headed towards the museum and its records room in search of the answer's he needed to toast the right body and avenge Livvi and those who came before her.


	20. Chapter 20

Max snapped out of his stupor and ran to catch up to Sam. "Damn kid but you walk fast. Can't you slow down," Max panted as he had to take the steps two at time. He reached out and grabbed Sam's arm stopping him; he took the last to steps to the top and stepped in front of Sam. Nervously he spoke what was on his mind, "Sam, look man I know how you feel I do; but, going in there alone is not the best idea right now. I think we should call your dad, get some back up. The building has been shut down and no one will be going in for a while. Besides if you haven't noticed the police are crawling around pretty thickly here." Max cast a worried glance at the two officers who were approaching them.

Sam clenched his teeth and quietly bit out, "You know how I feel? How could you? Have you ever told someone that something was safe and they trusted you? Have you ever had a woman get hurt, her unborn child's life jeopardized because of something you did, or in this case didn't do?" Sam watched as Max shook his head no. Sighing, Sam continued, "Max, I'm sorry. It's just that in this line of work I've seen it happen more than once. We go in, think we have managed to take out the problem, only to find out we were wrong. Most of the time we couldn't have suspected that something else was going on, because the something else was new to us, but this time," Sam ran his hands throw his shaggy brown hair, "this time we could have. I should have trusted my gut and come here yesterday instead of going to the car show. I should have stood up to my dad."

Max was about to reply when the authoritative voice of one of the officers cut him off. Max turned to look at the officers and he suddenly felt like he was suffocating. Sam noticed the panic building and he answered the officer's question, "I'm sorry officer. I left my notebook in the building when he we were ushered out. The notes for my report are in it and I really need it."

The officer gave Sam a sympathetic look however, "Sorry, I can't let you go in, the place is a crime scene. How about this, you tell me where you left your notebook and I'll go get it for you."

Sam stood for a second thinking over the officer's offer, he knew he was lying and he knew it wouldn't take long for the policeman to realize it once he noticed there wasn't really a notebook. Think Sam, he frantically thought, where's Dean when I need him? Sam's heart rate slowed when he came up with what he thought was a decent response. "That's alright," he answered, "I'm not sure where I dropped it with all the panic and all. I can check in tomorrow and see if someone has found it," Sam shrugged and put on his best innocent look, "and if not I can start over."

The officer eyed Sam, obviously feeling a little suspicious but unable to figure out why. After a few moments he dismissed the two younger men and went back to cordoning off the entrance. Sam and Max headed back to Max's car. Max leant against the driver's side door and took a deep breath, "That was close. Sam, come on, let's go and get your dad; we can come back later." Max watched as Sam spun on his heel and headed towards the back of the museum. "Sam," he said exasperated; throwing his hands in the air he followed his friend to the back of the building.

Dean had eaten the soup that Marta had made for him and decided that a nap really did sound good. He climbed the stairs and made his way to the bedroom he was sharing with his brother. After having used the bathroom and changing into a fresh white tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweat pants he laid down on his bed. For several minutes he tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. "It's too quiet," he said to himself. Sitting up he pushed the afghan, he had been using as a cover, off and headed back downstairs.

No one was around. Max and Sam were out doing something secretive, the William's had gone out to the park for a quiet walk and his dad had headed out to buy some much needed supplies. Dean knew that he was supposed to be in bed, but the quiet was making him feel restless. He made his way to the living room and turned on the television. Settling into Hal's oversized easy chair and throwing a blanket over himself, Dean began to flip through the channels. The noise the television created was enough to ease Dean's restlessness and he began to drift off.

Dean had just about entered the first level of sleep when an alert from the local news brought him out of it. Dean sat watching the news broadcast his heart sinking when the full effect of the story hit him. Someone was attacked at the museum. No, not just someone, Livi; Livi was attacked. Witnesses had reported hearing a fight between two women before the victim fell down the last few stairs on the main staircase. Witnesses also report that when they had entered the main hall no one but the victim was there and that no one had seen anyone else leaving the scene. One witness said it seemed as if the other woman had just vanished into thin air.

The remote control slide out of Dean's hand as the picture on the screen switched to a live shot of the museum. Police cars were parked everywhere and off in the back corner of the parking lot was Max's car. Oh, Sam what have you gotten you and Max into this time, Dean thought as he retrieved the fallen remote. He quickly clicked off the television and headed upstairs to get dressed. Dean mumbled to himself as he pulled his jeans up, "I'm so gonna kick his ass, if dad doesn't kick both of ours before I get the chance." Dean grabbed his keys off the nightstand by his bed and headed back downstairs.


	21. Chapter 21

The sound of laughing children floated lightly on the cool late summer breeze. The aroma of cooking hot dogs and hamburgers spread over the park making mouths water as their owners realized their hunger. The voices of parents calling out for their children echoed through the park. It was as perfect a day as anyone could have wished for.

Hal and Marta Williams walked along the small river that cut through the heart of the park listening to the sounds of the families as they enjoyed the wonderful summer day. They held hands each lost in memories of days gone by. They found their favorite bench and sat watching the ducks as they drifted lazily along the rivers steady current.

Marta laid her head on Hal's shoulder and let out a small sigh. The park had always been a place of peace and tranquility for the matriarch of the Williams family. She had spent many a day there with Max when he was a small child. She had watched her son grow up playing in the park, enjoying life, enjoying being a child. It seemed at times she had taken for granted the peaceful life they lead. Nothing brought that more to light than when the Winchester's would come to visit.

Marta opened her eyes and felt the first tear fall. She reached up to wipe it off her cheek but felt her husband's fingers as they gently wiped the tear away. Hal lifted his wife's face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Thinking the same thing I'm thinking," he asked; the look in his wife's eyes letting him know she was.

Marta nodded, "I'm sorry, Hal. I don't mean to ruin the moment. I just can't help it." Marta turned on the bench so that she was facing her husband. Damn, the Winchester's. Damn, them for getting into her heart.

Taking a deep breath Marta continued, "Hal, I feel for those boys. Everything they have been through and everything they will be forced to face. It's too much to expect of them. At times I wish we had never met John or the boys. It sounds awful I know, but the ignorance I had before them I really miss it. I think of Max and how he got to be a child. How he got to play baseball and soccer. How he got to live in one home, go to one school and make real friends. I think of the future our son will have. Max will be able to have a family, something I know Dean wants and will never be able to have. I think of how Max will graduate college and someday open up his own law firm, something I know Sam really wants and will never have. I think of how each night we go to bed tucked safely under our comfortable blankets and how those boys are either climbing into another hard hotel bed or standing out in the rain somewhere waiting for something evil to kill. But, most of all I think about how Max has never once had to question whether you loved him or not. Whether he made you proud or not. I can't say the same for Sam or Dean."

Marta clenched her hands as her frustration over the injustice of it all came to a head. She stood and walked to the edge of the small river. She watched as a mother duck floated by her ducklings following close behind. Turning back to her husband she looked at the man who had given her everything she had ever needed, but somehow she knew he wouldn't be able to give her the answer to the question she was about to ask.

She walked back over to bench and knelt on the soft grass before her husband. Taking both his hands in hers she looked up into his eyes and asked, "Hal, please can you tell me what in Heaven's name those boys did to deserve the life they have been handed?"

Hal looked at his wife and could see that her heart was being crushed under the unbearable sorrow she was feeling. He longed to be able to answer her question but knew as well as she that he could not. After all how could he give her an answer when it was a question he often times asked the good Lord himself? The only thing Hal could think of to do was to kiss his wife again on the forehead and to gently lift her to her feet. He stood, took her hand in his and began leading her back up the path to their waiting car.

Hal watched his wife from the corner of his eye. He could tell she was still wrestling with the question. Inwardly sighing he offered her the only answer he had, "Marta, I wish I could tell you what they did to deserve this; I can't. I don't think they did anything. I mean how could they have? They were just babies when all this started. There's nothing we can do for them to change the fate they have been handed. However, we offer them a little light in the darkness when we can. I'll tell you what, how about we stop off and pick up some dinner for everyone before we head home? We can run your errands and give the Roadhouse a call before we head back. Have them get some steak dinners ready to go? Sound good."

Marta smiled at Hal, "Sounds good."

John placed the last bag into the bed of his truck and climbed into the driver's seat. He put the key into the ignition and cranked the engine. The truck started with its usual growl and the radio came on. John put the truck into drive and started backing out of the parking space he had been occupying.

His mind was playing back the conversation he had had with Sam earlier that morning. He couldn't believe that Sam would actually have been selfish enough to want his brother to have to stay another day in some hospital just so he could continue to investigate a case that was for all intents and purposes closed. Then again he really wasn't that surprised. Sam had been for many months now growing more and more independent. He was starting his senior year in high school and unlike with Dean, John wasn't so sure that Sam wasn't going to want to go onto college.

John's mind was pulled from its musing by a break in the local radio stations programming. It was an update to a story they had told the listeners about earlier. John's ears perked up when he heard that Livi Pettite and her unborn baby were now listed in fair condition and that both should recover from their earlier attack. The announcer also said that as of yet the police have to get any leads on the mysterious woman who seemed to have vanished after causing Mrs. Pettite fall down the stairs.

John hit the brakes on his truck and performed a very illegal u-turn, causing more than then one driver to blast his horn and give the worried father the bird. John didn't notice, nor did he care about ant of that. He was focused on one thing and one thing only, getting to Sam.


	22. Chapter 22

Max anxiously watched as the cop walked past the bushes he and Sam were hiding in. Letting out the breath he was holding he stood and followed Sam as they ran hunched over from the protective cover of the bushes to the open basement window a few feet in front of them. Sam reached out and gently pulled the window out so that it was opened wide enough for both he and Max to crawl through.

Once both boys were inside Sam headed off in the direction of the records room being as quiet as was humanly possible. Max followed close behind amazed at himself for having just illegally entered a building.

It took them a few minutes to reach their desired destination. Sam took his lock picking kit from his back pack and made quick work picking the records room door. Stealthily he and Max entered the now opened room and Sam quietly closed the door behind them. Once they were safely inside Sam headed for the files he had previously looked over.

Sam handed half the stack to Max and kept the other half for himself. Max sat across from Sam and opened the first file of his stack. Not at all being clear on just what it was he was looking for, Max fumbled with the top page of the file before lifting his eyes and looking at Sam. Clearing his throat Max got Sam's attention and proceeded to ask Sam just exactly what it was he was looking for.

Sam scratched his head, he wasn't exactly sure of what it was either. He sat mulling over the things that Hattie had told him when she had appeared to him. Something that resembled a light bulb went off in Sam's head and he reached for the pile of folder's he had given to Max.

After a few minutes of thumbing through them Sam sat back in his chair a smile on his face. Turning the folder around so Max could read it Sam pointed to the section that had caught his attention. Max sat for a moment scratching his head before saying, "I don't get it Sam."

Sam pulled the file back and explained his find to Max, "Max, I was right it wasn't Hattie we were looking for. Yes, its true Hattie was haunting the place but it was Caroline Johnson who was committing the attacks. Look here, Caroline was admitted shortly after Hattie and Nathanel's deaths. Hattie had said that someone close to her was attacking the women. It says in this report that Caroline was upset over the loss of her son and that she had a mental breakdown. Caroline died of injuries she sustained, not to long after she was admitted. Caroline had fallen down the main staircase. It has to be her. With everything Hattie told me the pieces fit. Then there's this," Sam handed Max an old faded picture.

Max reached out and took the picture. Handling it carefully he turned it so he could see and a shocked gasp passed from his lips. Looking up his eyes round with surprise he could only say one word, "Dean?"

Dean had parked his beloved Impala a few blocks from the old mental hospital. He tucked his favorite gun into the waist band of his jeans and a package of consecrated iron rounds in one of his jeans pockets. He walked around the block so that he could enter the hospitals grounds from the back. In no time he was watching the same police officer make his rounds around the museum from the same bushes that Sam and Max had watched from. After the officer had rounded the corner Dean used the same hunched walk to the same basement window that Sam and Max had crawled through.

Dean crawled through the window and headed off in the direction he was sure the others had previously gone. After a few minutes Dean found himself standing outside the locked door of the records room. Retrieving his lock picking kit from a back pocket of his jeans, Dean made even faster work of the lock than Sam had.

Quietly, Dean opened the door and entered the dimly lit room. Shaking his head at how easy it was to sneak up on his brother Dean walked over to the two boys sitting at the research table and placed a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder. Stifling the laugh that was begging to be set free Dean sat on the empty chair beside his brother and punched him hard on the arm. "Damn it, Sam," he said all humor gone, "Just what the hell is it that you think you're doing? In case you haven't noticed little brother there is a squadron of cops milling about the place. Do you want to get yourself arrested? It isn't bad enough you dragged yourself into this mess, but did you have to go and drag Max along with you?"

Sam sat staring at his brother. He couldn't believe that Dean had the nerve to lecture him while he had clearly snuck out of the Williams' house and was at the hospital without John's permission. Sam wondered how Dean had found out where he was and just what exactly he was doing there. Sam opened his mouth to ask his brother those very questions but he didn't have the chance. Before he could get a word out Dean's chair was knocked over and he landed hard on the basement floor.


	23. Chapter 23

"Dean," Sam yelled. He jumped out of his chair and went to check on his brother when he felt an invisible hand push him back. Sam stumbled backwards, tripped over his chair and landed hard on his ass, the wind knocked out of him.

Max scrambled to the other side of the table. He felt the noticeable temperature drop letting him know that Caroline Johnson's spirit was still in the room and probably more than ready to launch another attack. He skidded to a halt beside Sam and helped the younger man up. An icy grip tightened around his arm and he felt himself being flung into the file cabinets that sat lined up against the fair wall. Max hit the file cabinets hard and he felt a sharp pain in his lower back then he felt nothing at all; his legs gave way and he slid down the cabinets to land in a tangled heap on the floor.

Sam watched in horror as his friend flew across the room; his need to check on his brother conflicting heavily with his need to check on his friend. Sam heard a low moan coming from his brother's direction. His head snapped around and he saw his brother pulling himself up. Dean looked from Sam to Max, then back again and in that moment Sam knew he needed to go to Max.

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and wrapped his hand around the bag of rock salt he had placed there earlier. He pulled himself up and stood on his shaky legs placing his free hand on the table to steady himself. Once again the temperature dropped in the room and he got ready for another attack. "Come on you bitch," he growled out, "play time is over. Show me what you got."

His heart froze when an angry snarl met his challenge and a frigid hand once again wrapped tightly around his throat. She materialized, her face mere inches from his. Her cold breath tickled his skin and sent shivers down his spine. She had once been a beautiful woman; he could see that. He could also see that her beauty had been wiped away by her insanity.

He clawed at the spirits hand trying to break the grip she had on him. Dean knew that he needed to keep the ghosts attention focused on him so Sam could get Max safely out. The one thing he didn't know was how much longer he could hold on. He felt the air as it was being squeezed out of him and he knew that it wouldn't be long before he lost this one.

Looking over to where Sam and Max were Dean decided he couldn't hold out any longer. He could see that something was seriously wrong with Max and that Sam needed his help. Pulling a handful of the salt out of his pocket Dean threw it at the ghost. A screech accompanied her swift disappearance and Dean greedily began to suck air into his hungry lungs.

He crawled over to where Sam sat on the floor; Max pulled up tight to his chest. Sam looked at his brother, his eyes full of tears, "Max can't feel his legs." Sam's head dropped and his shoulders hitched, "He can't feel his legs and it's my fault."


	24. Chapter 24

"Come again? What do you mean he can't feel his legs," Dean asked as he fought hard to process the information Sam had just given him.

Sam looked up and into his brother's questioning gaze, "He can't feel his legs." Sam's eyes, once again, filled with tears, "It's my fault," he sobbed, "it's all my fault."

Dean looked at Max and saw the confirmation in the other man's eyes. Running his hand over his face, he exhaled, "Sh!t, Sammy what do we do now? We need to get him out of here before the bitch comes back. I really don't like the idea of moving him and taking the chance of injuring his back further, but if we stay here it won't be a chance but a certainty."

Dean looked his brother over and noted that Sam didn't appear to have suffered any major damage from the fall he had taken, which was good considering it would have to be Sam who did most of the carrying. Dean sighed, "Sammy, hey, little brother, look at me." Dean smiled when Sam looked up, "I'm going to get one of the office chairs with wheels and I'm going to need you to lift Max up and onto it. You think you can do that?"

Sam nodded that he could and then turned his attention to Max, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you come along. I…."

Max, who had been sitting quietly spoke up, "Sam, it's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped me even if you had tried to. Just promise me you two will get me and yourselves out." Sam nodded and focused his attention back onto Dean.  
"Dean, look out, behind you," Sam called out as the spirit of Caroline coalesced behind his brother's back. He watched, his eyes wide, as she wrapped her cold arms around his brother's body.

Dean felt her before he heard Sam's warning. It was too late he didn't have time to react and he found himself caught in her frigid embrace. He struggled to break free, but her hold became tighter.

An icy current of air tickled his ear as she spoke to him, "Nathanel, please, why do you find it necessary to hurt me? All, I want for you, all I've ever wanted for you, was for you to be happy. That trollop wouldn't have made you happy. She would have just made your life miserable; her and that bastard child of hers. Nathanel, she was trying to trap you. She was using you. She felt abandoned by her husband and took advantage of the first kind soul to have come her way. You weren't supposed to have been there. You weren't supposed to have been harmed. I was looking out for you, like I always did. I knew that once she and the baby were disposed of, you would be free. I knew you would have come back to the family. You belong with me Nathanel. You belong with us. I had hoped that you had learned your lesson the first time around, but I see that isn't true. I had hoped….."

"Look lady, I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm not your Nathanel; my name is Dean," Dean shot back. He was really getting tired of this ghost and her crazy messed up way of thinking.

John pulled his truck around to the back of the hospital's entrance. Scanning for a safe to place to park he noticed Dean's car parked in a spot two spaces up, he pulled the truck into the empty space behind the Impala and turned the engine off. He pulled the keys from the ignition then grabbed his duffle off the trucks floor.

He quickly rummaged through the bag and pulled out his gun and its iron rounds along with a couple canisters of salt. Cursing under his breath he shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and the salt canisters and iron rounds into the pockets of his jacket.

John locked his truck then scanned the area for a safe place to enter the hospital grounds. He made his way to the back of the museum and watched the officer as he made his rounds. He watched the officer make his rounds twice, timing how long he had between each pass to make it to the only promising entrance way, a basement window. The same basement window he was sure his sons had used.

Pulling the window open he slid inside the building then closed the window behind him. He knew that Sam had planned on checking on some things in the records room and figured that would be the best place to start. Silently he berated himself for not listening to Sam.

Sam had tried to warn him and he had been too arrogant to listen. The great John Winchester had decided that the hunt was finished. John had closed his mind off to the possibility that Sam had in fact spoken to the spirit of Hattie Benson. He had once again blown off Sam's instincts and this time it could cost him.

This spirit was known to attack women, and not just any women, pregnant women. Her pattern had held true until she had attacked Dean. This worried John, because spirits weren't well known to change the way they operated; yet, she had attacked Dean. Why Dean? What was it about him that made her go after him?

Dean, John's pace quickened as he thought of his son. His mind became panicked as he thought of him here, injured, with a vengeful spirit who for some unknown reason held something against him. Then he thought, as he became angered, if she didn't kill him, I will.

John reached the records room tried the handle and noticed it was locked. He had reached up to knock on the door when a loud crash from the other side had him kicking it open. He looked around the room and his eyes froze when he spotted Sam standing over Dean an iron bar in his hand.

"Dean, I'm sorry, you alright," Sam asked his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, Sam, I'm great. It's not everyday a person gets hit from behind with an iron bar," Dean sarcastically spat back as he pushed himself up off the floor.

"Yeah, well what did you want me to do? She had you and I was afraid she was going to try and choke the life out of you again," Sam shot at his brother his feelings having been a little hurt at the lack of appreciation Dean had shown.

Hearing the hurt tone in his brother's voice Dean let his anger go. He knew Sam had panicked and had chosen the first course of action that presented itself, however he wasn't just going to let it go.

"Sam, look, thanks for saving me man, I mean it," Dean said his voice having lost its sarcasm, "But, maybe next time you could use the salt that you have in your pocket. It won't knock me off my feet or hurt as much."

Sam smiled sheepishly, "Yeah that would have been a better choice. What ya say we get a move on and get out of her before Casper shows her face again."

"I'd say that's a good idea." Both boys froze then slowly turned towards the doorway and the new voice that had just spoken.


	25. Chapter 25

The sound of their father's voice had surprised both of the boys and that surprise came through clearly in the infliction their voices held when they ,at the same time, said, "Dad?"

John leaned on the doorway of the records room his arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask of anger and frustration. He looked to where Max sat on the floor in front of the filing cabinets and raised a questioning eyebrow at his sons. Sam swallowed nervously lowering his eyes to the floor. He knew that he was in for it and that he wouldn't enjoy the "it" all that much.

He felt Dean tense beside him and his concern shifted from himself to his older sibling. If he was in for it, then Dean was more so. His brother had left the Williams' house and had followed him there when he was supposed to be resting. Dean had broken a direct order and in doing so had placed himself in danger. Sam knew no matter what reason his brother gave for coming it wouldn't be enough to calm his father's wrath.

John stepped into the room and walked over to Max. He knelt beside the boy and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Hey, Max," John said in a soothing voice, "I bet you had quite the experience and are more than ready to get out of here. What ya say we do just that?"

Max looked at the older man a sad smile forming on his lips, "I'd say that's a great idea, sir. There's just one small problem I don't think I'd be able to walk. I can't feel my legs."

"Come again," John said, "did you just say you can't feel your legs?" Max nodded and John turned his attention back to his boys, "Just what the hell were you thinking? Sam, you know better than to take a civilian along. Max was supposed to just drop you off. I was going to pick you up. When you got here and saw the police and heard about Livi you should have left. You should have went back the Williams' and waited for me. You shouldn't have snuck in here by yourselves. Is it that important for you to prove me wrong? I told you, you could follow up on your hunch; I didn't say that you could arbitrarily put your friend in harms way."

John slowly stood and moved so that he was standing nose to nose with his oldest. He stood there his hands clenching and unclenching as the fear and anger he felt battled with each other. Dean knew better than to have come. He was injured and had been ordered to stay at the Williams'.

It shouldn't have been that big a surprise to the father to have found the boy there. He knew the level of devotion and dedication Dean held for his younger sibling; hell he had instilled it in him, yet it was no excuse. Dean had defied a direct order. That defiance had placed both his sons in a very dangerous situation. Where John, would have had only one to worry about, he now had both.

The fear and anger collided, mixing together in an overwhelming surge of emotion and before he could stop them his hands snaked out to grab the collar of the jacket his oldest was wearing. "As for you, I thought I told you to stay put. You're in no shape to be here. Of all the harebrained dumb-ass things you've done over the years, I'd have to say this one tops the list. What the hell were you thinking?"

Dean stood stunned for a second, then his green eyes flashed and his shock turned to righteous indignation. He placed his good arm on his father's chest and he pushed the man hard enough that he lost his grip on the jacket collar and stumbled backwards.

Sam watched the exchange between his father and brother in bewilderment. It was a rare occasion when Dean Winchester stood up to his father. Everyone who had ever met them knew Dean worshiped the ground his father walked on. Sam could tell by the rage his brother's eyes held that this was one of those rare occasions.

Dean took a step towards his father. "What the hell was I thinking," Dean shot back, poking his father in the chest. "WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? Gee, I don't know, let me see. I was thinking that Sam was here alone with some whacked out spirit who even though it had been reported wasn't prone to attacking men, had in fact attacked me, and that he needed some help. I was thinking that you weren't around and that I as usual I was going to have to step in. I was thinking that, but now; now, I'm thinking what the hell were you thinking? You let Sam come alone when he suspected that the hunt wasn't over? I swear dad you never cease to amaze me."

"Dean," John said his voice held that you're pushing it tone.

"What," Dean shot back, "What?"

"Uh, guys," Max said trying to get their attention. When they hadn't acknowledged him he tried again, louder, "Guys."

John and Dean turned their attention to Max and in unison both of them growled, "What?"

Max blanched at the harshness the word held but pressed on, "Sorry to break this up, but shouldn't you all do something about her?"

"Sh!t," John exclaimed as he berated himself for letting his emotions keep him from focusing on the real problem that was rearing it's ugly head right in front of them.

"Oh, god, not again. Dean," Sam called out as he watched his brother sail through the air, strike the far wall hard and slide down to land in a limp pile on the floor.

Sam started to run to his brother's side when he heard his dad yell for him to hit the ground. Sam fell and covered his head with hands. He heard Caroline give out an agonized scream and felt salt fall across his back. A firm hand gripped his shirt and pulled him up off the floor.

"Sam, go sit by Max. I need you to keep an eye on him. I'll see to your brother." Sam did as he was told, but his eyes weren't on Max they were on his family. After what felt like an eternity his dad came back. John looked at Sam and noted that his eyes were on his brother's shaky form.

John had to admit that he was impressed with his son's strength. He had heard the loud smack as Dean had hit the wall. He had watched as his son slid limply to the floor and yet here he was standing and walking on his own. Dean was a survivor, and it was times like these that highlighted that fact.

However, John couldn't help but feel his concern grow. This bitch had it out for his boy and he had no idea why. He needed to get him out, to get them all out, but how? Max couldn't walk and pushing him out on an office chair could cause more harm than good. Then it hit him, a gurney. They were in a hospital after all. He had seen a gurney in the storage room he had looked into while looking for his boys.

"Dean, I have an idea. I saw a gurney in a storage room while I was looking for you. Stay here, put a circle of salt around you and stay inside it. I'll be right back. Sam can help me lift Max onto it and we can push him out on that." Dean gave his dad a no sh!t look. John sighed, his frustration growing yet again, "Dean, not now, lay off the attitude. Once everyone is out and Max has been looked over we can address our issues. Until then I need you to follow orders, got it?"

"Sir, yes, sir," Dean said in his best Marine imitation.

John shook his head and left to get the gurney he had seen. Dean slumped against the filing cabinets and Sam spread the salt in a circle around them, carefully stuffing some behind Max.

Sam looked at the papers that were scattered on the record room floor. Chewing on his bottom lip he cautiously took a step out of the salt circle. Dean straightened himself up and grasped the back of Sam's shirt. "Where do you think you're going, squirt? You heard dad he said to stay in the circle."

Sam continued to step forward, "I know what dad said, Dean. But, I need to find the information on Caroline. I noticed that she was buried here on the grounds, but I didn't have the time to see the plot number. Dean, we need to burn her, but good. You weren't here. You didn't see what she did to Livi. You didn't see what it did to Steven."

Sam turned around and Dean could see the responsibility Sam felt written all over his face. Sam's shoulder's hunched and his voice became hushed, "Dean, I knew this wasn't over. I knew it and I didn't do anything. True, I convinced dad to let me look into it further, but I should have pushed him. I should have pestered him until he brought me straight back and most of all I should have made him tell Livi that we were still looking into it. Dean, it's my fault Livi was hurt. It's my fault she might lose the baby. It's all my fault."


	26. Chapter 26

Dean felt as if the wind had been knocked from him. He saw the pain and felt the guilt his little brother was holding and it was more than he could take. Reaching out he placed his hand on the back of Sam's neck and pulled him forward.

When Sam was close enough, Dean wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close until their foreheads were touching; his green eyes piercing deep into Sam's hazel eyes, the gaze begging his younger sibling to listen and take heed in the words that he was about to hear.

Dean took a deep breath as he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his voice free of any and all emotion, "Sammy, you listen to me. I mean it you really listen to me. None of this is your fault. None, of it. You took your concerns to dad and you told him you didn't think it was Hattie. For whatever reason and heaven knows dad doesn't need much of one, he choose to ignore you. You know that had you pushed he would have just shut you down. You couldn't have done anything differently. This isn't on you, Sam, it isn't."

Sam's gaze had dropped and his eyes had begun to fill with tears that wouldn't be held back; angrily he wiped at the offending drops of water as they fell unbidden, he took a shaky breath and raised his eyes. Sam noted the sincerity that lay in his brother's eyes and he knew at that moment in his mind that his older brother was right. It was his heart that he was having a hard time convincing. His heart wasn't ready to let him forgive himself. He had to make it right. He had to get Caroline and the only way to do so was to get the plot number and have a good old fashioned salt and burn.

"Dean, I hear you, I do," Sam said as he wrenched himself from his brother's grip, "But, the truth is I knew and I did nothing. If I hadn't been so afraid of dad and had just followed my hunch, on my own, I would have found out about Caroline sooner and I could have kept Livi from coming back here. I should have gone with my gut and told you what was going on." Sam raised his hands and kept stepping backwards, "I didn't. I didn't say anything because I was afraid of what you would do. I didn't want to risk you coming back. Risk you getting hurt again. But, if I had told you; if I could have had faith in you and trusted you, maybe you could have gotten through to dad." Sam took another step backwards, turned and headed to the scattered papers.

Dean felt a hand on his pant leg and he looked down to see Max staring up at him, shaking his head. "Dean, don't. Let him go. He needs this. I know, you know, heck, even he knows what you said is true. This isn't his fault, but there's still a small part of him that wants to make up for what happened. You're here, you have his back. He'll be alright. Caroline is obsessed with you, I don't think Sam has anything to worry about. Let him get the information he needs. Right now you have another pressing matter to work on," Max paused a mischievous grin forming on his lips, "How are we going to get me and a gurney pass those police men without being seen?"

"I have the answer to that," John said as he pushed the old gurney into the room. He pushed the contraption up to the salt circle and noticed that Sam wasn't where he was supposed to be. Looking around he saw his youngest digging through the scattered papers. Sighing he turned his attention to oldest.

Dean, instinctively knowing what his father wanted to know spoke up, "Sam, saw that Caroline was buried here on the grounds. He went to look for the plot number. Dad, he's taking this hard. Please go easy on him. He really blames himself for what happened to Livi, even if we know who the blame really lies with."

"Dean," John started but was interrupted by Max.

"Mr. Winchester, do you think you could explain to me how you propose to get this pass the guards without being seen. I think you'd agree with me that none of us wants to get caught."

Nodding, John began to explain his plan to Max. When he was finished and Dean was on board he called out to Sam, "Hey, Sam, I need your help here. It's time to get Max, up on this gurney and out of this place. What ya say?"

Sam nodded but kept looking through the stacks of papers. Jumping up, he tucked a piece of paper into his jeans pockets and headed back to where the others were waiting. John had found a board they used to slide under injured people to help support them as they were lifted off the ground, in the storage room where the gurney was located. With Dean's help, John got Max safely onto the board and was waiting for Sam to come help him, lift their injured friend onto the gurney.

After Max was secured and made as comfortable as he could be, they headed out. John took the lead, with Dean following close behind. Sam brought up the rear pushing Max and the gurney. The small group made their way to the elevator that sat on the far end of the hall. As they waited for the elevator Sam patted the piece of paper he had stuffed in his pants pocket and said, "This ends tonight."


	27. Chapter 27

The elevator doors opened and the small group entered. Sam stood in the back of the elevator his hand absent-mindedly patting the piece of paper, with Caroline's plot number, that he had stuffed into the pocket of his faded jeans. Come hell or high water this ghost's reign of terror would end tonight.

Sam began to go over the supplies he would need to finish the job. The shovel, salt, matches, lighter fluid and flashlight would be easy enough to come by; the hardest would be the ride needed to get back to the old hospital's cemetery. Taking Dean's Impala or even his father's truck were two options that he had struck of the list of possibilities even before he had added them; as was stealing a car. Sam huffed, it wasn't going to be easy, but he would think of something.

Max lay on the gurney watching his young friend, his apprehension growing, he could tell what Sam was thinking and he knew without a doubt that it wouldn't end well. Max knew that if Caroline didn't finish Sam, John would. Thinking of John, Max turned his gaze on the older man and wondered what he was thinking. It amazed Max that John seemed to be oblivious to his youngest and what he was planning. Oh, if only Max really knew.

John stood at the front of the elevator, his mind going over his plan to get them all out. From the corner of his eye he noticed his youngest patting the jean pocket he had placed Caroline's plot number in and the glint that his youngest now held in his eyes. John knew from that glint and the set of his son's jaw that he had had enough and that he (Sam) would be making a trip back to the old hospital's cemetery. Dean's words filtered through John's thoughts and he knew that his oldest was right. Sam felt responsible for what happened to Livi and he wouldn't stop until Caroline was good and crispy. John sighed; this was going to be a long night.

Dean stood behind his father, his back against the elevator's wall. He ached all over and he wanted nothing more than to climb into a bed somewhere, anywhere, and let unconsciousness take him over. He felt strong, yet gentle hands, grasp his arms and gently pull him back up; his weariness had started to take over, and without even noticing, he had been slowly sliding down the elevator's wall.

John could see that the adrenaline which had kept Dean going had run its course and now his body was doing all that it could to get the rest it so desperately craved. Wrapping his arm around Dean's waist and draping one of Dean's arms over his shoulders, John helped to keep him on his feet.

He thought about the situation they were in and realized that his plan was hard enough when he thought Dean could walk on his own, but now; with Dean almost dead on his feet it seemed impossible. John knew that he could distract the police officer long enough for Sam to push Max out and into the cover of the small wooded area with Dean following close behind, but now.

John felt Dean shift a bit and he looked over to see his sons green eyes watching him. He felt his sons hand on his shoulder as he gently pushed away from his father's hold. John tensed as he watched his boy struggle to remain standing. He knew what Dean was doing and God bless him, but John knew that he didn't have the strength to make it out on his own.

Reaching out he grabbed hold of the front of Dean's jacket and steadied him. "Dean, hold on son. What do you think you're doing," John asked his voice firm but his eyes gentle.

Dean gave his dad a you can't be that stupid look, "I'm standing. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Very, funny; you know what I mean," John snapped back then noticing the annoyance that was growing behind his sons expressive eyes he raised his hands in a placating manner, "Look, you know what I mean. You have taken some hard hits this past week and I can tell that it's catching up with you. I just…."

"What dad? You just what? I need to be able to get myself out of this. You're gonna be busy keeping the cops busy, and we all know Sam can't push me and Max. I'll be fine. I can hang onto the gurney and use that for support if I need to," Dean's face flushed and he leant back against the elevator's door just as its bell rang indicating it had reached its destination and the doors slid open. The sudden loss of the doors support caused Dean to become unbalanced and he stumbled backward, landing on his butt, hard, on the tiled floor.


	28. Chapter 28

"Son of a bi…" Dean's expletive was cut short as his collar was grabbed by an icy hand that yanked him forcibly back; slamming him violently into a far wall.

The transparent image of Caroline coalesced before him. The angry specter leant down, her mouth mere inches from Dean's ear. He cringed as her icy breath tickled his skin, "I'm really getting tired of this Nathanel. Don't you understand how much you hurt me? First you choose Hattie over me and now you choose these people I don't even know. Why is it that you find it necessary to cause me such pain. I gave everything to you. You've been a wicked boy and wicked boys need to be punished."

Caroline's apparition straightened up and turned her ill-intentioned glare upon the occupants of the still open elevator, "Maybe I'll start with the little one. You seem overly attached to him. Nathanel, how much pain would it cause you if something were to happen to him?"

"You really are a batty old bitch aren't you," Dean spoke up, his heart constricting as his fear for his brother's safety grew, "You have to wonder why I choose Hattie over you? It's simple she wasn't crazy, like you."

"Dean," John said. That word holding both the question of what are you doing, and be careful in its tone.

Ignoring his father Dean pressed on, "You claim to love me, yet you took away the two most important people in my life. It's not me that you did it for", Dean pushed himself up off the floor, using the wall for support; and he continued "You killed them for yourself. You couldn't handle the scandal, the shame. Your pride got the better of you. You believed it would all go away if they went away, but you didn't just murder them, did you? No, you weren't satisfied with just killing them; you had to kill me too."

Caroline turned her penetrating gaze back onto Dean and he shivered from the chill that was infused in it. He looked over the phantom's shoulder and yelled for his father to get Max and Sam out of there, to get them to safety.

John stood frozen as he watched the spirits hand snake out and deliver a frigid slap to his sons face. He flinched when the sound of the slap reached his ears. His stomach clenched when he saw a fresh trickle of blood make its way down his sons chin from a fresh split on his lips. His mind spurred him into action when yet again he heard his oldest cry out for him to get his brother and Max to safety.

Every fiber of his being fought him as he grabbed the gurney and his youngest and headed for the back entrance. Sam's protests at leaving Dean behind made it even harder for the father to do what he knew needed to be done. They reached the back door and John found himself fighting with a struggling Sam, "Sam, the more you fight me, the longer your brother goes without help. We need to take care of Max, to get him out. You know the job, son. We take care of the civilians first. Once Max is out, I'll go back and get your brother."

Sam stopped his struggling. Lifting his head so that he could look his father in his eyes he spoke, every word was like a knife in the father's heart, "What if that's too late? Are you really willing to sacrifice Dean for the job?"

Marta and Hal walked into the all too quiet house their arms loaded down with shopping and take out bags. Hal sat their meals on the counter while Marta took the other items into their bedroom. Hal made his way through the house poking his head into the den and living room as he looked for signs of life. He started to make his way up the stairs when the blinking light on his answering machine alerted him to the fact that there was a message waiting.

Hal pushed a button and the message started playing. "Hal, this is Steven," Steven's voice came through the speaker, "there was another incident over at the museum and Livi has been brought into the hospital, they aren't sure how she or the baby are doing. I want you to help overlook her care. Can you please come to the hospital as soon as you get this message?"

"Oh dear lord," Marta said her hand clamped loosely over her mouth.

Hal pulled the car keys from his pocket and headed back out to the car. "Marta," he called over his shoulder, "Put the dinners away in the fridge and meet me out front."

Marta put the dinners in the refrigerator then left a note for John and the boys explaining where she and Hal had gone and that they would keep them updated. Quickly she rushed outside and into the waiting car.

John's brown eyes bored into Sam's and he let the protective wall down long enough for his son to see the truth behind his words, "No, Sam, I'm not willing to sacrifice Dean for the job, however, first things first; we secure the civilians."

Sam slumped; he knew there was no way he was going to win this argument. He knew the longer he fought his father, the longer that evil bitch would have his brother to herself. Sam nodded and waited for John's instructions.

John did not like what he was thinking and he liked the risk to Max even less, but the situation had changed and desperate times called for desperate measures. Before, when they had the luxury of time, John had planned on keeping the police busy while he posed as a U.S. Marshall who had been sent in because this case was similar to another that had taken place in Missouri. But, now, they didn't have that kind of time. John figured that if he carried Max, he and Sam could make it across to the shelter of the trees faster and more quietly than if Sam were to push Max. The major drawback was that the action could cause further damage to Max's back.

It didn't take Max long to agree to the new plan, he couldn't bare the thought of Dean being left alone with that crazy ghost any longer than necessary. In fact he too had tried to argue with John about leaving Dean before he came to the same realization that John could not/would not be swayed.

John carefully lifted Max up off the gurney as the guard was passing and silently he and Sam slipped through the back door and across the lawn to the trees that lined the outer edge. They then headed out to the street where John had parked his truck. Sam took the keys, that John had given him before they had left the hospital, and unlocked the passenger side door. As carefully as he could, John lifted Max into the truck. Turning to his youngest he nodded and closed the door.

Sam ran around to the driver's side and he climbed in behind the wheel. Sam rolled the window down, "Dad, promise me that you'll get Dean out. Promise me that he'll be alright. Dad, promise me."

John couldn't make that promise, "Get Max to the hospital. I'll see you there." With that John turned and ran back to the hospital.


	29. Chapter 29

Sam watched his father's retreating back and let out a worried sigh. Slipping the truck's key into the ignition he turned it over and listened as its engine purred to life; casting one last look in the direction his father had headed, Sam put the truck in drive and pulled away from the curb.

Max could sense the worry that rolled off the youngest Winchester. He, also, threw a quick glance in the direction that John had headed and in that instant his mind was made up. "Pull over Sam," Max said, shaking his head when Sam looked over at him, his mouth open and ready to protest. "I said pull over. You and John did what you set out to do; you got me out of there. I'm safe. Caroline can't get to me, here, right?"

Sam nodded and pulled the truck over. "That's right, but I still need to get you to a hospital," Sam stared at his hands, unable to look his friend in the eye.

"Sam, look at me," Max prompted. When Sam didn't look up Max said it again, in his best John Winchester imitation, "I said look at me. This isn't your fault. None of this is. You didn't force me to go with you. In fact, if my memory serves me right, you told me to go home. I made the decision to tag along. Me and me alone."  
"Max, I hear what you're saying, I do, but I'm the hunter here and I should have made you leave. I shouldn't have allowed you to follow me inside. Now, because of me your hurt, hurt real bad, and Dean…." Sam's voice cut off, hung up on the fear that he felt for his older brother's safety.

Max took a good hard look at his companion. 'How can anyone live this life,' he thought. "Sam, this is not your fault. What if I had listened to you and went back home? Do you think that would have changed your brother's reaction after hearing about what had happened to Livi? Do you really think that he wouldn't have come for you? I can tell you with all certainty that it wouldn't have. As for me, there wasn't a thing you could have done that would have made me leave." Max paused, "I should have made you leave," sniggering at the expression of disbelief on his younger counter parts face Max continued, "I'm older than you Sam, you would have had to have listened to me."

Max's composure grew serious, "Honestly, Sam neither of us could have predicted that anything like this would have happened. It just did. I don't think it will make too much of a difference for me on when I get to a hospital, but for Dean time will make all the difference. Your dad would have everything you need in order to fry that batty broad in his trucks hidden compartment, am I right?"

Understanding of what his friend was saying broke out on Sam's face. Smiling, Sam nodded, "Are you sure? I really think I should get you to the hospital."

Max nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. The hospital has an access road just up to the left where you can get to the graveyard without being noticed. You can drive up to the site and I can wait for you in the truck. You don't need me to be telling you this, but, Sam you need to hurry. The way Dean was goading her on, pretending to be Nathanel…" Max dropped his eyes and a shudder coursed through his body as he thought of what could be happening to Dean.

Sam once again put the truck into drive, pulled out onto the street and took the left onto the access road that would take him to Caroline's end. Sending a silent prayer to whatever higher being may be listening, Sam asked for his brother to be returned to him safe and in one piece.

John skidded to a halt right inside the inner perimeter of the tree line. His brown eyes watched as the guard made his round and his feet carried him swiftly to the now unlocked back door. Quickly, John ducked inside the museum and made a mad dash to the front entrance, all the while praying that he would find his son there, still alive without his spectral tormentor in sight.

The main hall was empty; the quiet that had engulfed the building, spoke to the father, its meaning caused his heart to constrict as a wave of panic washed over him. Closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall the heartbroken father dropped to his knees. He placed his hands onto the cold tiles of the main hall's floor and his chin dropped to his chest; he looked every bit as defeated as he felt.

John's hands slid, a little, in something that felt warm, wet and sticky. Opening his eyes the distressed father looked down and for the first time since he had arrived back at the main hall he saw the blood that lay splattered on the unforgiving tiles. Looking from his hands to the floor he noticed the trail that his son's precious life force had left.

With stout determination, John, got to his feet and followed the trail of blood that his son had unwillingly left behind for him. The bloody track led him to the main stairs where it ascended up to the secondary level. 'There was no way Dean made it up those stairs under his own power,' John thought, 'That demented spirit had to have dragged him up.'

His body shaking with rage and alarm John began to climb the staircase and follow the trail to his son. He had stepped onto the second level when a muffled cry from his right sent him running in that direction.

Dean lay on the floor of room 215 his bruised and battered body protesting the further abuse it had received at the hands of Caroline's insane spirit. He hurt all over and had long since lost hope that his dad would be able to save him in time. He closed his eyes and swallowed against the knot that had formed in his throat. 'I just want it to end,' he thought, 'I want the pain to stop.'

Caroline sat on the only chair in the room, her passionless stare drinking in the suffering of the man before her. She waited for years to speak to, to see her son again; to try to reconcile with him and put the ugly past behind them. But, here he was and nothing had changed. He still took the needs and wants of others above hers. He still talked to her with the same contempt he had held all those years ago. He was a wicked boy and wicked boys deserved to be punished.

Deliberately Caroline rose from her seat and walked across the room to where her Nathanel lay. Grasping him by his hair she pulled him into a sitting position, resting him against a wall to help keep him sitting straight. She lent over and placed an icy kiss on his cheek. A tear slipped from of her ghostly eyes and she reached in the front pocket of her dress and retrieved a pair of scissors.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I had pictured our reunion being a much happier event." With that said she raised the scissors up than swiftly lowered them towards her beaten captive.


	30. Chapter 30

Marta and Hal exited the hospital's elevator on the floor that specialized in women's health. Hal headed right to the nurses station and Marta headed to the waiting room to look for Steven.

When she entered the room her heart sank to her toes. Steven sat, alone, on the chair furthest from the entrance. His head was in his hands and his body trembled from his silent sobs. Quietly she walked over to the man who she had come to think of as an adopted son and placed a gentle hearted hand upon his shoulder.

Steven startled when he felt the touch and he looked up. His panic turned to calm when he looked into the loving eyes of the woman he had come to think of as a second mother. Large tear drops fell from his eyes and he reached out, snagging Marta about the waist and clung to her like a child clings to his mother after he has woken from a terrible nightmare.

Marta stood there running her fingers through, Steven's short brown hair, whispering words of comfort until she felt him pull away. Looking down at him, she felt her heart crumble as she saw the pain and fear in his watery blue eyes. Steven righted himself and sat back in the chair.

"I'm sorry, please forgive me," he said as he wiped the tears from his face, "I don't know what came over me."

Marta smiled, reached into her purse and pulled out a tiny package of tissues. Pulling a tissue from the package she reached out and gently dabbed the moisture from her adoptive son's face. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said while she sat down on the chair next to Steven's. "You are going through an emotional time right now and are going to need all the support you can get. I understand and I hope you do as well, that it is not a sign of weakness to show your emotions. Have you heard anything about Livi or the baby, since they were brought in?"

Steven nodded. His voice sounded distant and lost as he spoke, "The doctor was just in, right before you came. He said that as of right now the embryo is holding its own. He said that Livi didn't suffer any damage to her uterus during the fall and that the embryo is still securely attached. However, he said that the stress the embryo is being put under as Livi fights to stay alive could be enough to cause her to abort the baby."

Steven's voice hitched and his shoulders slumped. He looked into Marta's eyes and gained a little strength from the love and concern he saw, "I don't know what she'll do if she looses the baby. I don't know what I'll do if I loose either or both of them. All I do know is that I have to keep it together for Livi and our families. Her parents are driving down from Sault Saint Marie; they should be here early tomorrow morning. My mom is also cutting her vacation short and is flying back from Daytona."

Marta sadly smiled. Nodding she stood up, "Have you eaten anything?" Steven shook his head. Marta held her hand out to the younger man, "Then come. Let's go to the cafeteria and get you a little something. I think the change of scenery will be good for you. We can stop at the nurses station and ask them to page you if anything changes."

Steven knew arguing with the woman would be futile so he nodded, stood up and followed her down to the nurses station. After Marta left instructions on how to reach her surrogate son, she took his arm and led him to the elevator to start their short journey to the cafeteria.

Sam stopped the truck as close to Caroline's grave as he possibly could. He put the black truck into park and cut the engine. Reaching across the seat and from the trucks floorboard he pulled a duffel bag up and placed it on the seat between him and Max. After several minutes of scavenging through the duffel's contents he pulled out the things he would need to get rid of Caroline once and for all.

Throwing the driver's side door open, Sam jumped down from the trucks cab and landed on the pavement that was now a part of the pathway that lazily wound it's way through the cemetery; branching off here and there so those who traveled along it could visit their loved ones in different parts of the cemetery.

"Why couldn't the bitch have been buried right beside the path, instead of ten rows over? It sure would have made things easier," Sam grizzled as he ran towards his intended target. "Then again when has anything ever been easy for a Winchester?"

Sliding to a stop next to Caroline's grave, Sam placed his tools on the ground. Picking the shovel up, that he had pulled from the bed of his fathers truck, he placed the pointed end into the ground and began to dig with a ferocity and fervor that, if he could hold onto, would make the job of digging this grave up one of the fastest ever accomplished in Winchester history.

Outside the museum the last police officer got into his patrol car and drove away. He was more than relieved when the call came in that he and the others were being relieved of their guard duty. The officer had a very important date planned for that evening and there was no way he was planning on missing it.

Pulling his vehicle out onto the main street the officer, his mind focused on his date, didn't look in his review mirror. If he had he would have seen the cloud of black smoke that puffed its way up to the darkening summer sky, from the mental hospital's graveyard; forcing him to go and investigate the cause of the smoke. But, since he hadn't looked and since he hadn't seen; to the good fortune of both the officer and Sam Winchester, it appeared that luck had been on their side and neither of them would be taking any unplanned trips to the nearest police station.

Sam watched as the flames reduced what was left of Caroline Johnson's remains to ashes and then faded out. Satisfied that the job had been successfully finished, Sam slammed the lid of the coffin closed and preceded to fill the grave back in. Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, Sam bent down and picked up the tin of salt and lighter fluid from the ground beside him and headed back to the truck.

Climbing back into the truck's cab he slid behind the steering wheel. Smiling he looked over at his passenger, "Thanks. Now how about we get you to the hospital."

"You're welcome," Max answered back, "and only if you insist." Shooting Sam a questioning look Max stuttered out, "Hey, what are we gonna tell them at the hospital. I mean about how I got hurt and all. We can't tell them I was thrown against a wall by a pissed off ghost, can we?"

"Uh, well," Sam sighed, "no, I guess we can't tell them that. We need to think of something and fast."

"I know," Max said, "We could tell them we were playing basketball down at the park and that we got a little carried away. We could tell them that we ended up tangled up and I got slammed hard into the wood wall behind the hoop."

"You think it will work? You really believe that they'll fall for it," Sam wasn't to sure if the incident matched the severity of the injury.

"Yeah, it should. Something similar happened to a kid I knew at school last year."

Sam nodded, "Ok, so it's all set. You got hurt playing basketball." Sam pulled the truck up in front of the emergency room entrance, "I'm gonna go get someone to help you to the E.R.. I'll park the truck and then I'll come in and find a pay phone to call your parents. After I've made the call I'll wait for them, alright."

"Yeah, but what Dean and your dad?"

"They'll be fine. With Caroline out of the way, dad shouldn't have any problems getting Dean out and to the Impala. You'll see; dad will be bringing Dean here soon enough. Right now let's just focus on getting you looked at." Sam jumped out of the truck and ran inside looking for the help that Max needed.


	31. Chapter 31

John heard Caroline's words to his son, "I'm sorry. I was hoping our reunion could have been happier" and his panic level rose. 'What does she mean, I'm sorry?' John thought. He reached for the door handle to room 215, tried to turn it and huffed in frustration when it wouldn't turn. 'Damn, it's locked,' he thought as he dug in his jacket pocket for his lock picking kit. "Hang in there kiddo," he whispered, "I'm on my way."

Green eyes, dulled with pain, watched as the scissors followed along their intended path and buried themselves into his left shoulder. A weak grunt escaped from the wounded man's lips. The apparition stood up, a cruel smile adorning its cold face. Bending over, Caroline once again wrapped her icy hand around the scissors and carelessly tugged them from the battered man's body.

"You bitch," Dean puffed out. He felt his eyes getting heavier and noticed how his breathing had become more labored. He began to both fear and accept that this was the end. Caroline stood over her victim a warmth slowly spreading from her breast and out through her entire ghostly being.

For the first time in a long time she felt happy. Laughter, at first soft and low flowed from her; growing louder as the warmth encompassed her. Justice was finally hers. For all these years she and Hattie had been trapped in a macabre nightmare; forced to relive their deaths, over and over, while Nathanel, for some unknown reason had escaped that fate, until now.

Today he had been delivered to her so she could even the score. Today he would come to understand the torment and horror that had long been hers. Today, he would relive his death, much the same way she had hers. Today was the day!

John's hands began to tremble as Caroline's laughter passed through the door and pierced his soul. His panic ratcheted up another notch. "Son of a…"he mumbled. "C'mon, click. Open up you bastard," he growled at the door, "That's my boy trapped in there with that crazy bitch. Open, dammit, open."

The lock finally clicked and John hastily pushed the door open. He felt the air rush out of him, the sight that greeted him left him with the feeling that he had been sucker punched in the stomach.

Dean sat, listing to one side, his back propped up against a wall. His face was cut and bruised; blood ran from a wound in his left shoulder, and painted the wall behind his head. His eyes were closed and his breathing was irregular and labored. The cast that Dean had been wearing on his broken arm was cracked and looked as if it were ready to fall apart. John had seen his boy tore up many times, but not like this.

Caroline turned toward the sound of the opening door. Her face lit up when she saw the mortified look on the father's face. "You're too late," she cackled, "You're too late. He's mine. He's always been mine. I should thank you for bringing him to me. I should thank you for helping me to finally get the justice I so richly deserve."

John's dark eyes bore through the spectral body of Caroline. Hate and anger fueling the fire that burned deep within. His hand reached into his coat pocket and filled with the rock salt he had placed in there when he had taken Max to his tuck. "He's not yours! You can't have him," John yelled while he flung the salt at Caroline.

Caroline let out a scream and dissipated when the salt passed through her form. John rushed over to where Dean sat. He dropped to his knees and placed shaky fingers against his boy's neck, letting out the breath he was holding only after he felt the weak, yet steady pulse.

"That's my boy," he breathed out. John looked his son over and assessed his injuries, "Damn, kid she got you good didn't she? C'mon let's get you out of here." John slid one arm around his son's shoulders and the other under knees. Carefully he lifted his precious burden and headed out of the room and to the stairs. 


	32. Chapter 32

Marta sat with Steven in the cafeteria. She watched as he absent mindedly pushed his food around the plate that sat before him. She could sense the pain that had taken hold of the young man's heart and wished with all of hers that she could take it away. "Honey," she said, "I tell you what. Why don't we take care of our plates and trays and then go to the chapel? We can say a prayer for Livvi and your little one. Would you like that?"

Steven nodded, tears filling his eyes. "Yes," he answered her, "Yes, I would."

Marta picked up their trays and carried them to the garbage cans. She dumped their contents into the trash receptacles, set the trays in their designated area and went back to Steven. Placing her hand on his shoulder she let him know it was time to leave. Steven stood and together they headed to the chapel. They had made it as far as the elevator when Marta heard someone calling for her.

"Mrs. Williams," a young nurse called out as she ran towards the older woman, "Mrs. Williams, wait I need to speak with you."

Marta turned towards the younger woman and smiled. "Callie. Callie, dear what is it," Marta asked, alarm bells ringing at the expression Callie wore.

Callie stopped, out of breath, when she reached Marta; bending over, hands on her knees, Callie took in several deep breaths, when she straightened back up her eyes shone with tears. "It's Max," said her voice shaking, "He was brought into the E.R. just a few minutes ago. He's been hurt. He's been hurt real bad. I heard someone say that he couldn't feel or move his legs. His friend, Sam, I think that's his name; well, anyway his friend brought him in. I guess they were playing basketball and Max found himself slammed hard against a wall or something. I'm not sure, exactly, but I heard you were in the hospital and I went to find you."

"Basketball my ass," Steven said, "I knew that family was trouble. Max was with him when he came to the museum today, he must have decided to help. I told that boy he was going to get someone else hurt. I just knew it. First Livvi, and now Max."

Callie stared at Steven, confusion written all over her face. She had heard about Livvie being brought in, but from what she understood Livvi had been attacked by a woman. Besides, what would Max's being hurt have to do with Livvi and who was this family that Steven knew was trouble?

Before Callie could say anything to Steven, Marta's legs gave out on her and she fainted. Steven managed to catch her before she hit the floor. He followed Callie to the nearest waiting room and laid Marta down on one of the couches. Callie left to find a doctor who would be able to look Marta over. As she rushed out of the room she paid little attention to the tall shaggy haired kid who was entering the room.

Sam's hazel eyes surveyed the room, much the way he had been taught, they opened wide in surprise when they landed on Marta's still form passed out on the waiting room couch. Faster than a person could say "hi" Sam was on his knees beside the couch, Marta's hand in his.

He felt rough hands pull him to his feet and throw him hard against a wall. Steven pinned him there, an arm laid heavy across his chest. "Stay away from her," Steven ground out, "haven't you done enough? First Livvi, then Max and now this. What is it with you people? You said that you could help, but from what I have seen you've done more harm than good."

Sam stood there listening to Steven and realized that the man was right. They had messed this job up in more ways then he could count and two civilians had been injured because of it. His father kept asking him why he hated this life so much, well here was his answer; no matter how hard they tried, no matter what they did, someone was always getting hurt. It just wasn't worth it.

A cough from the doorway had Steven releasing his hold on Sam. Callie had come back with a doctor to check on Marta. "Is everything alright here," the doctor asked, "I don't have to call security do I."

"No, Dr. Campbell, that won't be necessary," Marta answered softly, "The boys were just having a lively discussion. I'm sure everything's alright now. Isn't it boys?"

"Yes, ma'm," they both answered in unison, "everything's alright."

"Well, that's good," Dr. Campbell replied, his tone making it clear that it had better be. Turning his attention to Marta he sat down on the couch beside her, "Marta, Callie, here told me that you fainted. How are you feeling?"

Marta looked at Callie then back to Dr. Campbell. "I'm fine. Honestly. I think the news about Max pushed me over the edge here and I fainted. There's a lot going on right now, what with Livvi and the baby and now Max, I guess my system overloaded. I'm fine, now."

Dr. Campbell looked at Marta and nodded, "If you're sure. Maybe you should go home and get some rest. It sounds like you're having quite the day."

"I will I promise. But, first I need to check on Max and then on Livvi. I promise if things get to be too much I'll go home."

Dr. Campbell nodded and looked at Steven and Sam, "I trust that there won't be any more problems from either of you. I'll take Marta's word that everything is alright. But, hear this, if I or any other staff member suspects something, both of you will be asked to leave. Am, I making myself clear."

"Yes, sir," Sam answered.

"Crystal," Steven replied.

"Good. Very, Good. Alright, Callie, let's leave them to their business," Dr. Campbell stood and faced Marta; "If you need anything, and I mean anything, have one of the nurses page me."

Marta waited for them to leave before she spun her attention onto Steven and Sam. "Would one of you like to explain to me, just what the hell happened here," she asked the pitch in her voice making it clear that she wasn't in the mood to mess around.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Williams," Steven began his voice choking on emotion, "I'm angry and I took it out on Sam. It's just that they came here claiming to be able to help and all they managed to do was get Livvi and Max admitted to the hospital. It's too much. It's just too much."

Steven's defenses shattered and the tears began to fall. Deep down he knew that Sam and his family really weren't to blame, but he needed someone, something to be angry with and well Sam seemed like the best target. Marta pulled the sobbing man down onto the couch beside her and wrapped him in her arms.

Sam began to feel as if the walls were closing in on him and he felt the sudden need to escape. He felt the tears that had welled in eyes and the knot that had formed in his stomach. He felt all the years of anger and frustration push to the front and beg to be released.

He knew that what Steven had said was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. Yes, they had told Livvi that they had taken care of the situation and that she was safe. In all honesty his father had believed this to be true. Sam, had had his doubts, but as far as his father was concerned the case was closed. His dad having based his conclusion on the facts he had had at the time. Sam didn't want to be callous, but they were human after all and humans do, at times, make mistakes.

Then there was Max. True he should have insisted that Max go home, anywhere, other than in the museum with him; in fact he had. However, Max was older than him and there was no way that he could have kept him from following. He did everything he could to keep Max safe. Injuries happen on the job, that's a plain and simple fact. How many times had he and his family been injured fighting what most people didn't believe in?

'Oh, god, Dean,' Sam thought, all his strength leaving him. He slumped against the wall, his legs no longer able to hold him, and slid down until he was sitting on his butt. He drew his legs up to his chest, crossed his arms over his knees, buried his face in his arms and let the tears fall.


	33. Chapter 33

John reached the staircase his eyes searching for his son's would be murderer; his body tense, senses reaching out for the tell-tale signs of her presence. His hold tightened around his cherished load, he swallowed hard against the fear that threatened to take over and he stepped down onto the top step.

He let out the breath he had been holding when nothing happened and he took another step, then another. Apprehension began to build and he started to wonder if Caroline was toying with him. He tightened his hold yet again, and kept taking the steps one at a time, waiting for her to appear and push them down the remaining stairs.

He reached the last step, his breathing heavy from the extra exertion of carrying his son and the heightened state of worry he was in. John looked at his son and a smile crossed his lips. Dean was in great shape, he was well toned and most of his body was lean muscle, but John would be damned if his boy sure couldn't do with lying off the double cheese burgers once in a while.

The fact that Caroline hadn't showed her ghastly face since he had last hit her with rock salt unnerved John. He knew that ghosts could be intelligent, capable of planning an attack, but, this ghost wasn't just smart, she was crazy. He couldn't figure her out. He had no way of predicting what she might try next and with Dean in the state he currently was in, he realized they were at an extreme disadvantage.

"Sh!t," he exclaimed as he remembered that Caroline wasn't their only problem. John shifted Dean a little bit and took in his beaten and bloodied appearance. Not only was he going to have to get them past Caroline, but he was going to have to get by the police who were guarding the museum, as well as carry Dean to the waiting Impala.

"Think, Winchester," John said to himself, "Think. How are you going to manage this one?" John sighed, he knew what he needed to do, but he wasn't very happy about it. He carried Dean to the nearest wall and sat him down, his back against it.

"Dean. Hey, kid," John spoke to his son, "I need to leave you here, but I won't be gone long, I promise. I need to check something out. You, hang in there, you here me. I'll be right back." Not wanting to, but really needing to, John turned his back on his boy and walked the small distance to one of the windows that looked out on the parking lot.

John looked over his shoulder to check on Dean then he focused his attention on the window. Carefully he pulled the lace curtain back and searched the parking lot, he noticed that the police cars that had earlier been parked there were gone, but one still car remained.

John sent up a silent prayer of thanks and hurried back to Dean. Lifting his son back into his arms the father headed to the front door of the museum. His senses were still on high alert and his body was still tense, but he felt a certain calm start to settle in. To the worn out father it appeared that luck had decided, for once, to smile down upon his family. It looked as if the police had been called away. It looked as if the last bout of rock salt had been more than Caroline could handle, and; it looked as if John had a ride out of there that didn't involve carrying his battered son along a now busy street.

The cool summer night's air hit John's warm face and bolstered his determination. John's steps quickened and before he had a chance to take it all in he reached the remaining car. Pulling up on the passenger's side back door handle, John opened the door and maneuvered himself so that he could slide Dean safely inside. After having settled his son on the backseat, John closed the door then ran around to the front driver's side. Pulling that handle up he opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel.

John shook his head, he was going to have to have a talk with Hal about how it wasn't to smart leaving your car unlocked, not to mention…John reached up and pulled the visor down…leaving a spare set of keys under the visor. John started the car, floored the gas pedal and headed to the hospital.

Dolores Sweetbridge was on duty that night. She had heard about Livi and decided to pay the young woman a visit. Dolores used to baby-sit Livi, from time to time, when her mother had needed someone so she could run a quick errand or two. Dolores had fallen in love with Livi. She had always thought of the woman as a daughter and it pained her dearly that Livi was the edge of not only losing her life but her baby's life as well.

The sweet elderly nurse sat in a chair by the younger woman's bed staring at all the tubes and wires that were attached to the unconscious woman's body. 'If only there were something I could do,' Dolores thought. Her face pinched up, she nodded and without taking her eyes off of Livi she stood.

Mrs. Sweetbridge placed a hand on Livi's and whispered, "Don't worry dear, it will all be alright. You wait and see; it will all be alright."

Dolores left Livi's room and headed to the chapel. In her heart she knew what she was doing was right, she just prayed that those with whom she needed to speak with would agree.

Dolores quietly opened the chapel doors and slipped inside. Her eyes scanned the chapel, coming to rest upon the only other person who occupied the room. Silently she made her way to the front pew and slid in next to the man who sat there. "Hello, Ian, I don't suppose I need to tell you why you're here," Dolores asked her companion.

Ian shook his head, his bright blue eyes staring intently at the woman who sat next to him. "No, I suppose you don't," he replied his voice vibrating with the music of an Angelic choir. He took her hands in his and spoke again, "Are you sure this is what you want? The Winchester boy is being brought in as we speak. Are you sure you want to use your last Heal on Livi and her child. You know that the Winchester's are our top priority. You know that we have been instructed to do whatever is necessary to insure the health and well being of those boys. Sometimes we fall short, we are, from time to time, hampered by forces beyond our control, but this time nothing would be standing in the way. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Dolores looked at her hands in Ian's; she enjoyed the feel of his hands. Her mind wondered back to the times when they were able to be together all the time. But, that was before. Before, the war had come knocking on their door. Before, they had been called to fulfill their duties as Guardian's. Before, they had been sent to Earth to watch over those who were unfortunate enough to find themselves serving on the frontline. Before, she had been sent to protect the Winchester's and those like them. Before, she had felt what it was like to be human.

"Yes. Yes, it is what I want. Dean's physical injuries, while they are bad, aren't life threatening. He's strong, he will recover. However, I worry more about his mental and emotional state of well being if Livi or her child should pass. You have without doubt, seen the toll that this is taking on Sam, can you imagine the toll it will take on Dean. He will not only take it upon himself to carry the burden of the blame for Livi, but also for the pain that his brother is suffering. He will blame himself for having been injured, for not being there to back up his brother, for being unable to talk to his father and convince him that maybe Sam was right. It won't matter to him that he was kept in the dark about Sam's doubts, it won't matter to him that there was nothing he could have done. It won't matter. He will see this as another failure."

"Very well, Dolores, as you wish," Ian looked into her eyes, his bright with tears, "You know that after you use your last Heal, you will become completely human, and will live out the rest of your days here, until you too shall pass. That, then and only then, will you be allowed back into Heaven."

"Yes, Ian, I do. That is the price we Guardians pay for looking after those we come to love. It is a sacrifice I'm willing to give. I have come to care for the human's in my charge and have come to enjoy living amongst them. I wouldn't change a thing. I was well aware of this when I agreed to being a Guardian. It is a decision I have never once regretted."

"Very well, then. Go and heal the mother and her child. I wish you the best of luck, Dolores, and I will wait until we can once again be together." Ian faded from Dolores' view and she, for a brief moment, felt all alone.

Brushing away the single tear that trailed down her cheek, Dolores stood and headed back to Livi's room. Her step had a newfound spring to it. She was going to finally be free. After a thousand years of keeping up the constant vigil, she was going to finally be free.


	34. Chapter 34

Sam heard a commotion coming from the emergency entrance. He lifted his head and saw a flurry of nurses and doctors run by, along with a couple of burly security guards.

He heard someone shouting profanities, with a couple of 'but that's my son' and 'you aren't keeping me from him' interspersed here and there and his heart fluttered. He turned to look at Marta and realized that she had come to the same conclusion.

Sam jumped to his feet and followed the last of the hospital's staff, who had rushed by, stopping short of entering the fray. His eyes grew as he watched his father throw off three of the security guards who had been attempting to hold him back. He followed his father's line of sight and felt his breath leave his lungs when he caught a quick glimpse of his brother before the doctor's pushed him through those dreaded swinging doors.

Sam was used to seeing his brother beaten and bruised up, but even though it had become as common place as breathing, or so it seemed, didn't make it any easier. His attention was drawn back to his father when he heard him yell out yet again and one of the guards threaten to call the police and have them remove him.

Sam pushed through the tiny crowd and made his way to his father's side. He stepped into John's line of vision and in his best impersonation of his dad he snapped, "Enough."

John's head snapped as if someone had slapped him and he focused his eyes on his youngest. For a moment the air felt like it was charged with electricity and everyone held their breath. Most of the on-lookers were afraid that the young man had just taken a gamble with his life and was about to lose.

Sam laid a hand on his dad's shoulder, took a shaky breath then calmly continued, "Dad, enough, please. You're not going to do Dean or yourself any good if you go and get yourself thrown out of here or worse land yourself in jail. Let the doctors and nurses do their jobs. We can find Mr. Williams; I'm sure he could go back and keep an eye on Dean for us. Please, dad calm down, for Dean."

John stood his body rigid, his hands clenching and unclenching as they hung by his side. Slowly his body relaxed and he nodded to his son. Looking at the small crowd that had gathered around him he took a deep breath and addressed them, "I'm sorry for the commotion. It won't happen again."

Dr. Campbell stepped forward his eyes boring straight into John's, "See that it doesn't. I understand that you're upset, but this is a hospital and the safety and security of our patients and staff are of the utmost importance to us. If you would like to find Dr. Williams I will be more than happy to allow him back with your son and if you'd prefer let him be the contact person for your son's case."

John shook his head, "No, that wont be necessary. Hal has other concerns right now. His son was just brought in with a back injury and a close friend of his was brought in earlier today after she was attacked and pushed down a flight of stairs."

"Alright," Dr. Campbell said, "if you're sure. Now if you've calmed down enough to go quietly sit in the waiting room, I'll go back and see to your son." Dr. Campbell didn't wait for John to answer; he simply turned on his heel and headed through the swinging doors and on to his newest patient.

The crowd having decided that the excitement was over started to disperse; everyone, but the three security guards that had been holding John back. They stayed behind and kept their wary eyes on the still agitated father.

Sam took his dad's arms and steered him towards the waiting room. Marta had left Steven setting on the couch and poked her head around the corner to get a better look at what was happening.

She had recognized John's voice the same moment that Sam had. She had heard the fear and anger that John's voice had held and knew with certainty that when John Winchester had let himself get that overtaken with emotion he was a force of nature that had to be handled just the right way or he would leave a trail of destruction in his wake.

Marta thanked the good lord that Sam had been there to help diffuse the situation. John's boys had grown up learning how to handle their father. John's boys had grown up to fast. So much having been placed on their young shoulders. The pain and devastation that they had bore witness to left their tell tale signs on the young men's faces.

Marta took a good, hard, look at Sam. At that moment he didn't look seventeen to her, he looked much, much older. His eyes were shadowed by dark circles and held a look of hopelessness to them that tore her heart into pieces. He looked tired and carried himself as an elderly man would, hunched over with a shuffled walk. She shook her head and helped Sam get his father settled into one of the waiting rooms chairs.

John sat shaking as shock started to settle in. He looked at his hands, not seeing them, but, instead, seeing the blood, his son's blood, that covered them. This hunt had gone wrong, terribly wrong. Three people were injured, two fighting for their lives, while one who for sure would live, might never walk again. How could things have gotten so out of hand? How could he have been so far off base?

John focused his attention on Sam when he heard his son's voice cut through the fog in his mind. He caught the tail end of the question Sam had asked him and shrugging he replied, "I got back and Dean was no where to be seen. I checked the room and saw a trail of blood that led up to the second level. That bitch had to have dragged your brother up those stairs and then down to her old room."

John shuddered as the images and emotions he saw and felt came flooding back. He continued his voice barely more than a whisper, "I heard him cry out. I heard him and I was trapped on the other side of that fu**ing door. She had stabbed through the shoulder with a pair of scissors and was going to it again, but I managed to hit her with some salt and she disappeared. I picked up your brother and carried him down back to the entrance way," John looked up his deep brown eyes full of tears, "He just laid there in my arms, Sammy, he didn't move."

John wiped the tears as they started to fall. He took a shaky breath and continued, "That is so not like him, you know. He's never that still." John shook his head and kept up his narrative, "I set him down and went to check and see if I could find an opening, you know, a way to get past all the police, and you know for once luck was on our side; they had been called away. I looked out and saw Max's car still sitting there. I picked your brother back up, carried him to the car and drove him here."

John's face scrunched up as he remembered something else, something that was a little unsettling, "You know after I hit Caroline with the salt, she never came back. She had been so hell bent on taking your brother out; I can't understand why she didn't come back."

Sam cleared his throat causing the older man to look at him. His cheeks turned pink under his father's questioning gaze. "I know why she didn't come back," Sam stated matter-of-factually. "She didn't come back because I dug her up, I salted her, and I burnt her bones. I took care of her. Max insisted that I burn Caroline before I brought him here. He didn't want to leave you and Dean there with that homicidal lunatic. He was afraid of what damage she could have inflicted on Dean in the time it took to get him here and for me to get back. I wasn't going to, I didn't want to disobey a direct order, but he was so insistent. Max was certain that he could wait and he was even more certain that Dean couldn't. Dad, I'm not sorry. If Max hadn't of been so sure I would have left, but he was so I stayed."

John looked from Sam to Marta, then back again. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the wall behind the chair. He was tired, so tired, the emotions and adrenaline that had been fueling him had finally run out and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep.

But, sleep wasn't in his cards for the time being and as if to emphasis that point Steven's voice brought him back from the brink.


	35. Chapter 35

"Hal," Steven asked when he noticed the man standing in the waiting room's doorway, "Everything alright?"

Hal looked from Steven to Marta then to Sam and John, then back to Marta. He looked to the floor and walked over to where his wife was sitting. He knelt in front of her and when he looked up Marta could see the pain he was trying to keep bridled, shining in his eyes.

"No," she whispered, "Oh, dear, no," She put her hand to her mouth and felt the tears as they began to trickle down her cheeks. "Please, Hal, tell me, which one. Which one did we lose?"

Hal swallowed, his throat constricted and his chest began to feel heavy, "Marta, no one. We haven't lost anyone, it's just Max…" Hal's voice hitched, "His doctor doesn't think he'll walk again. It appears that he did a lot of damage to some nerves and James, doesn't believe that it's repairable. Apparently our son had a previous injury, a small stress fracture that he left unattended. When he was tossed into the filing cabinet the small fracture became a big fracture and the nerves were pinched between the broken pieces. Some of them severed and James said he will try his best to repair them, but," Hal lost his voice and he dropped his head into his wife's lap.

Marta sat stunned; her son may never walk again? How could this have happened? Her precious boy, no longer able to do the things he enjoyed, and for what? Because some crazy dead woman held a vendetta against her son's lover, who she killed? Because evil was allowed to walk this Earth in whatever manner it chose and indiscriminately destroy whoever it came into contact with?

'Wait,' she thought, 'just wait. Your son is alive. He's still here. Praise the Lord that you haven't lost him completely. You can pray for a miracle. You can pray for your son's healing. You have to stay strong for him. However this turns out, for whatever reason this has happened, it has, and getting bitter and angry won't help anyone. Max knew the risk he was taking when he went into that building. Max knew and still didn't hesitate; he wanted to help his friend. Oh no, Sam.' Marta looked to where Sam was sitting by John; all the color had drained from his face.

"Sam," she said to the stricken boy, "this isn't your fault. Max made the decision, it was his choice not yours. You couldn't have stopped him…"

"That's not true," Sam responded, "He asked me to call dad. He asked me to wait until we had backup. He asked me and I went ahead anyway. If I had agreed we would have left and he wouldn't have been there. It's, just, I, well, when I heard about Livvi, I got so angry," Sam looked at his hands, his next words barely more than a whisper, "I'm so sorry."

John wrapped his arm around his son's shoulder and pulled him close. "Sam, you're right, you should have listened to Max. You should have waited," John, turned his son so that he was facing towards him. He placed his hand gently under Sam's chin and lifted his head until he could look into the boy's eyes, "But, you didn't make Max follow you. You couldn't have stopped him. This isn't your fault."

"No," Steven broke in his voice thick with sarcasm, "Isn't it? He wouldn't listen to reason, like father like son."

"Excuse me," John shot back his hands clenching into fists, "you got something you want to say? Say it."

"Well, where do I begin….."

"Steven," Hal cut off the younger man, "This wont do anyone any good. We could go over could have, would have and should have's all we want. We can't undo what's been done."

Steven let out a huff, "You're right we can't change what's been done. Your son may never walk again. I may lose my wife and unborn child. I'm angry, Hal. I'm angry. They came to town promising to help and all they did was get those we love hurt."

Steven balled his hands into fists and looked straight at John, "When I first met you, I thought to myself, here's a man who pays attention. Here's a man who really knows his stuff. If anyone can help, it'll be him and his boys. I couldn't have been more wrong. Your first day out, your oldest gets tossed down a flight of stairs. Your youngest thinks something more is going on, you choose to ignore him, not even warn us and carry on like its all taken care of. Well we all see how well that worked out. Max may never walk again; Livvi and the baby may not make it, and Dean well, whatever happens, happens."

At the mention of his son's name, John shot from where he was sitting, grabbed Steven by his shirt front and slammed him into the wall. John's eyes turned a darker shade of brown as his anger flared, "What's that supposed to mean, whatever happens, happens? I'm real sorry about Max, and even sorrier about Livvi, but my boy doesn't deserve to be lying here anymore than they do. He gives everything he has to those who need our help."

John's shoulders slumped and the anger lost its hold, "He gives everything to everyone. He doesn't ask for anything and he never complains. He willingly throws himself into the line of fire time and time again to make this world we live in safer. This isn't the life I wanted for him, and I'm sure it isn't the life he would have chosen, but he has accepted the fact that if we don't do what we do no one else will. Sometimes things go wrong; we deal with the un-known here. We do the best we can. I don't expect you to understand. Every time an innocent gets hurt, or worse, we feel it. We're only human."

John let Steven go and he dropped into the chair he had pulled the other man from. He ran a shaky hand over his face, "You weren't there. You didn't see. He went there because he knew his brother was there. He went there because he knew Max was there. He went there because he couldn't just sit still and wait for the news that something bad had happened to either of them. That crazy bitch had it bad for him, he knew that. He knew that and he used it to help us get Max out. The look he gave me before I left him, it was almost enough to make me stay. He was telling me goodbye. He honestly thought he wasn't going to make it out, but at that moment the only thing that mattered to him was Sam and Max making it out. You think that we don't care about those we help? My son was willing to sacrifice himself for Max and I was willing to let him."

"John, I'm sorry. Look, you're right I don't understand…." before Steven could say anymore he was interrupted by someone calling for him. He looked over to the waiting room's door and saw Delores standing there.

"Steven, I need to speak to you. It's about Livvi."

"Livvi? What's wrong with Livvi?"

Delores moved so she was standing next to Steven. She looked up into his face and her eyes glowed with warmth, "Nothing, dear. Nothing is wrong with Livvi. She and the baby are doing remarkably well. The doctor's can't explain it. She's still not completely out of the woods yet, and she'll be on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy, but they don't see any reason why she won't make a full recovery and carry the baby to term. I guess someone was looking for out for her after all."

"Can, I….can I go see her?"

Delores nodded, "But, she's still weak. You can't stay long. The doctors want to limit her visitations for a short while. Once they move her from I.C.U. you'll be able to stay with her longer."

Steven stood outside his wife's room looking in as she slept. The visit with her had been short, to short, but she had managed to show him the error of his ways. He had told her what had taken place after she had been brought in, he didn't think it was a good idea, but once she set her mind to something it was easier to just give in.

She couldn't believe that he had blamed the Winchester's for what had happened to her. She pointed out that they had come there, to help her. She asked him how he could have expected them to have suspected Caroline, when no one else did. She asked him to think about the decisions John had made and honestly answer if he would have done anything differently.

She had to admit that it would have been nice if John had mentioned Sam's suspicions, but that she would have felt like John. She wouldn't have thought too much about them. They wouldn't have kept her from going back. She told him that she expected him to apologize to them and that once she was allowed visitors she wanted to see them.

Steven stood outside his wife's room and heard the code blue go out. He felt a chill go up his spine as one thought crossed his mind, Dean.


	36. Chapter 36

Sam stood behind John wrapped in Marta's arms, while John stood talking to a very flustered Dr. Campbell. Hal stood next to John, offering his support, a hand resting on the worried father's shoulder. "He died," John kept repeating over and over, "He died?"

Dr. Campbell looked to Hal for assistance. Hal nodded acknowledging the other doctor's request. Clearing his throat He stepped around in front of John, his hand never leaving the grieving father's shoulder, "John, look at me. Please, John look at me. Good, now listen to me; Dean's heart had stopped beating and yes he stopped breathing, but, the doctors were able to get his heart beating again and they have him hooked to a machine that's helping him breath. He's fighting John. He's not giving up. You have to listen to me John, he's not gone."

John shook his head, "He died. Hal, my son died." John turned to Sam reached out and pulled his youngest into a hug, "I'm sorry, Sammy, I'm so sorry. You tried to tell me something was wrong and I didn't listen. It's my fault, it's all my fault."

"Dad, you're not listening. It's like you shut down when Dr. Campbell told us that Dean had died during surgery. They revived him, dad. Dean's not dead. He's still in surgery. He's not dead. You need to snap out of this. C'mon, dad, please, you have to pull yourself together. Dean could always tell when you had given up, he didn't have to be near you to know, he just did. You can't let him feel you giving up now. He's fighting, and he's gonna need our support. Dad, snap out of it." Sam stepped back from his dad and when his words didn't evoke the reaction he had hoped, he decided to try a more drastic measure; he slapped his dad hard on his right cheek.

John reeled in surprise at the unexpected slap to his face. He reached up and placed his hand over the growing red hand shaped mark looking at Sam as if the boy had suddenly grown two heads. "Sam, what the hell? What was that for?"

"Sorry, I couldn't think of anything else to do that would get your attention."

John kept his hand on the spot where Sam had slapped him and he worked his jaw back and forth. He gave Sam a small smile then said, "Well I guess I should thank you for just slapping me instead of punching me across the jaw."

Sam nodded then turned his attention back to Dr. Campbell, "Ok so let me see if I understand you correctly. You said that Dean's heart had stopped and that he had quit breathing during surgery. You said that you were able to get his heart beating again and that you have him hooked up to a machine that is now helping him breath. You also said that he is still in surgery, but wanted to update us because of the code blue that went out. You stated that he was beaten up pretty badly, that there was some internal damage and bleeding along with some bleeding on the brain."

Sam paused and waited for Dr. Campbell to confirm what he had said before he continued. "Dean coded when the doctor went in and tried to relieve some of the pressure off his brain, right? So what does that mean? When Dean pulls through, not if," Sam made a point to look at his dad, "but, when, is he possibly looking at some kind of brain damage?"

Dr. Campbell sighed, "Honestly, I can't tell you anything definite until he's out of surgery and awake. I would guess that chances are good that some sort of damage may have been caused, but it is really too early to tell. Your brother's strong, Sam, I can tell you he certainly is a fighter. I guess, now it's just wait and see. I really wish I could tell you more. I'm going to go back and check on how he's doing. I'll come back and fill you as I learn more."

"Thank you, Jake," Hal said. He waited until Dr. Campbell had left then he addressed John and Sam, "You two must be exhausted. I tell you what, I'm sure Dean's going to be a while in surgery; why don't you, both, go back to the house, get something to eat, take a shower then lay down for a bit? You can take Marta with you, I'm sure she's just as tired. I'll stay here and if anything happens I'll call you."

John shook his head, "No, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving Dean." John turned to look at Sam, "But, you should go. Sam, don't argue with me, not now. You should go, take Marta home, and get some rest. You know your brother. You know how pissed he'd be at me if I let you wear yourself down. Besides, you could bring me some clothes and something to eat when you come back. This isn't up for discussion. Sam, go."

Sam snapped his mouth closed and turned to Marta, "Well I guess we're being dismissed. Can we take your car? I drove dad's truck here, and I don't think we should use Max's car until it's been cleaned, I'm sure it's a mess. We could use the Impala, but…."

Sam looked at John, "Oh sh*t, the Impala, Sam, it's still parked where Dean left it earlier. Son of a Bitch, we can't leave her there. Dammit."

"John, I could help with that," Steven said from the doorway, "It's the least I could do. I can drive Marta and Sam to where she's parked and Sam can follow us back to the Williams'. Livvi's going to be asleep for awhile and I won't be able to see her. Delores promised to keep an eye on her for me; besides, I really need to talk to Sam. I need to apologize to both him and you. I told Livvi everything and she wasn't very happy with the way I've been acting. I'm sorry and it would really mean a lot to me if you'd let me help."

John nodded, "Alright, thanks. But, I'm warning you, you say or do anything to upset Sam again, and I promise you that Livvi will be visiting you here, understood."

After Marta, Sam and Steven had left Hal suggested that John go the doctor's lounge use the shower located there, change into a borrowed set of scrubs and get some rest on the cots that were set up there. He wouldn't take no for an answer and soon he found himself sitting on an empty cot waiting for John to finish his shower and change into the clothes that he had borrowed from the store room.

For the first time that day, alone in the bathroom, John took a good look at himself. He took in the blood that covered his clothes and his hands. He noticed the hollowness that filled his eyes and the dark circles that had begun to form under them. He looked like someone who had just escaped from an asylum for the criminally insane and had gone on a killing spree.

John let out a laugh at the irony of his last thought, because dammit, he had just escaped from an asylum, only he wasn't the one who was criminally insane, the damn spirit that had tried to kill him and his boys was. The thought of his boys brought his attention back to his hands. He grabbed the soap that was lying on the sink and he scrubbed them until they were raw. To many times he had had his son's blood on his hands. When was it going to end?

John reached in and started the water running in the shower. He waited for it to warm up then he stepped under the hot spray of water. He bent his head forward and let the water run down over his neck then his back. He felt the tension start to leave his body as the water massaged his weary muscles. He grabbed the soap and a wash cloth. He lathered up the cloth, quickly washed himself and then he reached for the shampoo. After washing his hair he once again placed his hands on the wall, bent his head forward and let the water run down over his neck and back.

After the water had started to grow cold he turned it off, reached around the curtain for the towel that hung on the bar just on the other side and dried off. He quickly got dressed and stepped out into the lounge area.

He found Hal asleep on one of the empty cots. Smiling he walked over to where his friend lay and covered him up with a spare blanket from an unused cot. John laid down on the cot beside Hal's and let himself drift off.


	37. Chapter 37

John stood by Dean's bed it had been a week since the boy had come out of surgery and he had yet to wake up. A coma; he had been told that his son had slipped into a coma. The doctor's weren't to surprised by this turn of events, and explained that with the head injuries and various other trauma inflicted on him his brain was operating on it's lowest level of awareness in order to prevent any interruptions in the rest his body needed to heal.

The good news was that Dean no longer needed help breathing; however an oral-nasal canula had been placed in his nose and mouth to monitor the flow of air in and out of his body. He was hooked up to a heart monitor that kept a strong steady beat that reassured the worried father, if only a little bit. The feeding tube that had been inserted as a means of making sure the young man received the nutrients his body needed was unnerving to the father who remembered his son's gusto when it came to eating.

John turned towards the door when he heard it creak open. Sam stood in the partially opened entrance way, it had been the first time he had been allowed to visit his brother since he had come out of surgery. John smiled at the teen and motioned for him to enter.

Sam slowly entered and stood next to John. He looked at his brother's still form and felt the wetness as it built in his eyes. The tubes and wires that went to and from his older sibling's body were disturbing enough, but to see his brother's head wrapped in gauze that covered up the hair his brother so prized and his face covered with in the harsh blues and blacks of bruises along with the cuts, well that opened the gate that had been holding back the tears.

John wrapped an arm around his youngest shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Sam allowed his father to hold him, needing the comfort as much as his dad did. He buried his head in the crook of his father's neck and let the tears fall, not caring who saw; not caring what they would think.

The past week had been a roller coaster of emotions for the two men and their friends. They received the news that Livvi was doing better than expected and that she wouldn't have to be on total bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy. She was told that she could move about, but was not permitted to do any heaving lifting, pushing, pulling; in general she was not to over exert herself. She would have to attend weekly check ups and follow any changes in the doctors orders that may be given at that time, but over all the doctors were calling her recovery a miracle and promised that she would be released in a few days.

The news about Max wasn't as hopeful. He came out of his surgery without any complications; other than his doctor had been able to fix the severed nerves, but he held out little hope that Max would be able to walk again. He wasn't totally pessimistic about it, but he didn't want to give Max and his parents any false hopes.

At first, Max was extremely upset and refused to see anyone. Marta called his girlfriend, Elena, and asked if she would come and talk some sense into Max. At first Max was adamant about not wanting Elena to see him as he put it "this way", but Elena wasn't going to be kept away. The second day she was there she marched right into his room and asked him point blank just what the hell was wrong with him. She told him she was sorry about what happened to him, but that it didn't matter to her. She loved him, and that together they would make it through. She asked him to marry her and refused to take no for an answer. She explained that even though he may no longer be able to walk that didn't change the man he was and he was all the man she needed.

Max left the hospital a week later an engaged man. He was still uncomfortable about being in the wheel chair and the stares that he received, but with Elena by his side it was getting easier. They stopped and made his first appointment with the physical therapist and then headed home to Hal and Marta's.

Sam sat in the living room skimming through one of the law books that Marta had. He had decided that he could no longer live like this. He couldn't stand the constant watch and wait as he or someone he cared about recovered. It had been two weeks since Dean had been taken into the hospital. Two weeks since he had slipped into a coma. Two weeks and there wasn't any change.

This was Sam's senior year and he had decided come Hell or high water he was getting out of this life and so was Dean. The phone rang breaking him from his musings. Sam got up and answered, "Hello, Williams residence."

"Sam," John's voice came through the line coated with emotion.

"Dad," Sam asked his heart jumping to this throat at the emotion in his father's voice.

"Yeah, Sam, it's me. Look I need you to come to the hospital. Sam your brother…"

Sam's ears stopped hearing his father's words at the mention of his brother. He went on auto pilot, told his dad he would be write there. He wrote a quick note for Hal and Marta and headed out to the hospital. "As God, is my witness," he mumbled, "Dean and I are getting out as soon as we can." He climbed into his father's truck fired up the engine and headed to the hospital, his brother and their pending escape the only thing on his mind.


	38. Chapter 38

Marta and Hal entered their home and the quiet that greeted them came as a surprise. They had expected to find either Sam or Max and Elena in the living room watching television, reading or something, not the silence the house now possessed. Hal's gut told him something was off, he turned and headed out towards the driveway and it was then that he noticed that both John's truck and Dean's Impala were missing.

Hal knew that John had taken Dean's car to the hospital, so that explained where she was, but John's truck that was another story. Hal expressly remembered John telling Sam he was to stay at the house for the day. He remembered the fight that had brought on Sam's house arrest. Hal shook his head, John knew how to go for the jugular when it came to punishing his boys and he wasn't afraid of doing it.

Sam had woken up that morning more on edge than usual. Hal knew the reason for this was because of Sam's worry over Dean. It had been two weeks and Dean still hadn't woken up, this really had Sam concerned. Hal also knew that Sam still blamed John and had not yet forgiven him; so when John mentioned that he may have to leave for a few days to follow up on a lead Sam came unhinged.

He accused John of being a cold heartless bastard, caring for nothing more than his revenge, and that hunting had always and would always come before him and his brother. Sam shouted that Dean was where he was because his dad couldn't see past the tip of his own nose and accept the possibility that he could be wrong about something and Sam could've been right. Sam went on to say that he often wondered how Dean could so blindly worship the ground their father walked on, when their own father took so little notice of them.

It took all the control John had and a quick prayer to whomever may be listening, to keep him from backhanding his youngest. These fights were becoming more common place and he often found himself asking where he went so wrong with this one. He often wondered why Sam couldn't be more like his brother and accept what had been dealt them and try making the best out of the situation.

He stepped up to his son and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He explained, in that dangerously calm way of his that let his boys and anyone around him know that they had gone too far, that was enough. He told Sam that he had enough to deal with and he wasn't going to add another Sammy hissy fit to the list. He explained that he understood Sam's concern for his brother and that was the only thing saving him from the ass-kicking that he deserved.

John went on to explain that he wasn't happy about leaving while Dean's situation was so serious but that he had all the confidence in the world that Hal and Marta would keep watch over him. What John didn't say, what he couldn't say, was that he wasn't really going to follow a lead, but was instead going to meet with a faith healer about Dean.

Hal shook his head; he couldn't believe that Sam would have taken off in his father's truck after what had happened earlier that morning. He turned and headed back into the house. He found Marta standing by the front door waiting for him. She handed him Sam's note, grabbed the keys from the table and followed her husband out the front door, back to their car and to the hospital.

Sam stepped off the elevator onto the floor his brother's room was on. He followed the hallway to Dean's room to find their father pacing outside. John looked up and when he saw Sam he went to him. Sam was startled by the tears he saw in the older man's eyes. He was even more startled when his father pulled him into a tight hug.

John held Sam for what seemed like an eternity before he let go and stepped back. Seeing the look on Sam's face, John smiled and spoke to him, hoping to calm his fears, "Sam, Dean woke up. Your brother woke up. The doctor's are in with him now. After they have checked him over they'll let us back in to see him."

"He's awake? He's really awake," Sam asked the information sinking in and his body relaxing reflexively.

"Yeah, I called you as soon as it happened. The doctor's came shortly after and told me I had to leave so they could examine him. They warned me that he will be easily tired and that he would most likely be confused and have some memory loss. They said the confusion should only last for a little while, but the memory loss could be permanent," John stopped and lowered his eyes, "Sam, about this morning; look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you. It was wrong of me to keep you from coming here. I hope you can forgive me."

Sam looked at his father, shock over his admittance written all over his face. He felt his cheeks warm from the shame he felt at the words he had spoken. He knew that they were both upset and that what he had said was how he really felt, but he also realized that maybe he had picked the wrong time and way to express those feelings.

Nodding Sam replied, "Yes, sir, if you can forgive me."

John smiled, wiped at the tears that had been trailing down his cheek and pulled Sam into another tight hug. The sound of a door opening had both Winchester's looking towards Dean's room.

Dr. Campbell came over to where they were standing. He looked first to Sam than to John before he spoke, "He's resting. From what we can tell he's healing nicely. The pressure that had been on his brain has cleared and he appears to be lucid. He knew his name, his age, his father's and brother's name. He didn't know where he was, or why he would be here, but seemed to understand when it was explained to him. He asked for you, John and for Sam. The feeding tube has been replaced by an intravenous drip. We'll want to keep an eye on him for the next few weeks to see if there are any further complications caused by the trauma to his head. We are only going to allow one visitor at a time. For now I suggest that you give him a couple hours before someone goes in. Delores has said that she will keep an eye on him and will come get you when he wakes up."

Sam looked at the floor, only one visitor at a time; his father's voice brought his attention back to him and the doctor. "Thank you Dr. Campbell. I guess Sam and I could head to the cafeteria get some coffee or something. You'll let Delores know that's where we'll be?"

Dr. Campbell nodded, "Of course." He shook John's hand and headed to the nurse's station.

John turned to Sam, "Well you heard the doctor, how about we go get something to eat?" John took a good look at Sam and the look the kid wore tore at his heart. He knew what Sam was thinking, he was thinking that John would want to be the first one to sit with Dean, and even though Sam was right, "Hey, I tell you what. You eat something for me and when Dean's ready you'll be the first to see him. We got a deal?"

Sam's face broke into a smile, "Uhm, yeah, sure, thanks, dad."

John took Sam's arm and led him in the direction of the cafeteria. He couldn't help but smile, what had started out as a bad day had turned out to be one of the best days. He no longer needed to go out of town to meet with the faith healer, Dean had woken up, and he and Sam were on their way to mending their fences.


	39. Chapter 39

Delores slowly opened the door to her favorite patient's room. She poked her head around the door trying to see if he was awake or still resting, that last thing she wanted to do was disrupt his sleep.

He heard the door to his room open and he pretended to be asleep. He wasn't up to visitors at the moment and he hoped that whoever it was would just go away. The first few days after he woke up were filled with endless tests and what seemed to be very little rest. Finally, the doctors declared him well enough that they moved him out of ICU and onto a residential floor.

The first week or two after the move was quiet and uneventful. His dad and Sam would come and sit with him until he grew tired and even Marta and Hal paid him a visit or two. Delores had declared herself his personal nurse and she along with Hal made sure that she was assigned to his floor whenever she worked.

Then the restlessness kicked in. He had been stuck staring at hospital walls for over a month. He spent most of his days fighting with the doctors and Delores about how he was well enough to go home. Those fights carried over into fights with his father, who seemed to be siding with the doctor's on this one. The one time he had threatened to sign himself out, John ended all arguments by ordering him to stay until the doctors released him.

John's ordering Dean, hadn't set well with Sam and the fragile peace that he and John had so precariously built came crashing down when Sam told John, in no uncertain terms, that Dean was a grown man and he didn't need his daddy telling him what to do. He didn't want Dean to check himself out, by no means did he want that, he was just getting tired of his dad acting like he was the only one who knew anything.

Dean sighed; he should have known that the truce his father and brother had agreed upon wouldn't last forever; he just couldn't help but hope. All his life the one thing he ever really wanted was for his family to be a family. He wanted the fighting and hurt to end. But, he realized early on that his brother and father were just too much alike for any real peace to happen.

Delores stood behind the door, she may not have been a guardian angel anymore but, she could sense the feelings that were running through this young man's body. She could also tell that he wasn't really sleeping, so she slipped into the room. The nurse smiled when she heard the exasperated moan coming from her young charges mouth.

Dean rolled his head towards the entrance to his room and cracked his eyes opened. Delores's smile broadened as she remembered what the other nurses had said about this most handsome young man. She had to admit that everything they said was true, he did have the most brilliant green eyes and his smile was brighter than the sun. A chuckle escaped past her lips.

Dean lifted himself up so that he was sitting straighter and tilted his head inquisitively at her. Delores just shook her head, he really didn't get the effect he had on people. Oh, sure he got on a shallow level, but deep down he just really didn't get it. She walked over to the chair that sat by his bed and sat down when her unasked question of, 'is it alright if I sit' was met with a slight nod of Dean's head.

"Well good morning to you sunshine," Delores said her blue eyes sparkling, "I think I have some news for you."

Dean sat there, arms crossed over his chest, lower lip stuck out in a pout. "Let me guess," he said, sarcasm coating his words, "It's my bath time and Nurse Brunhilda has decided it's her turn. Oh, wait no, I couldn't be that lucky. Nurse Brunhilda is off today and instead of her getting the honor; the honor goes to Nurse Ned."

Delores giggled and answered, "Would that be so bad?" Her giggle turned into a full on bout of laughter at the incredulous look Dean shot her. Wiping the tears of laughter from her face she continued, "You're being released today."

"Come again," he asked, afraid that he had heard her wrong.

"I said you're being released today," Delores repeated.

The door to his room opened again and John entered followed by Sam than Hal. Delores stood, put her hand over Dean's and with a small, sad, smile said, "I'll go get the paperwork for you to sign, while you get dressed."

The men watched her leave before they turned their attention back to the one they had come to take home. John went and sat in the chair Delores had just vacated. His brown eyes met his sons green eyes and they both smiled. "Well looks like you're finally getting your wish," John's deep voice filled the room, "You're being sprung."

"Yeah, and it's about time," Dean answered back.

Sam stepped up to the bed and he handed Dean a bag with some clothes in it. "It'll be good having you back home," Sam said shooting a look at his dad.

Dean didn't miss the look and inwardly he sighed. He looked to Hal. "Hal, can you and dad do me a favor and see where Delores is with those papers? I really want to get out of here before someone changes their mind."

"Yeah, sure," Hal replied understanding that Dean wanted to be alone with Sam, "Before we go, I need to tell you that Marta has been busy all night baking and, well, I hope you're hungry."

Dean smiled, "When am I not?"

Hal laughed, clapped John on the shoulder and both men headed out to find Delores. John hadn't missed the look Sam gave him either and like Hal he knew that Dean wanted to spend some time alone with his brother.

After, his dad and their friend had left the room Dean turned his full attention to Sam. "Alright, Sam what is it now," he asked, "What has dad done this time?"

Dean had been brought up to speed with everything that had happened. He knew that Sam had told their dad that Hattie hadn't been the one behind the accidents and deaths and that John had yet again brushed him off. He had heard how Sam had been the one to dig up Caroline; how he had salted and burnt her bones, by himself. And, while he was angered at John for not following through with what Sam said, he also understood it.

Sam shrugged, "Nothing, let's just get you ready so you can get out of here."

"Yeah, like I'm like gonna believe that line of bull, little brother," Dean said crooking his eyebrow.

"Alright, if you really want to know. You're just getting discharged. Yeah, you've been recovering for a month or so and you're almost back to being a hundred percent, but Dean, you were injured pretty bad this time. And, well," Sam swallowed and looked to the floor, "you died. The doctors managed to bring you back, but, you died. We lost you. For a moment we lost you and I was so scared. I don't want to do this anymore. I can't keep watching you getting hurt. I can't lose you."

Sam stopped and took a breath. When he continued his voice was low and laced with pain, "Dean, you're the only one who understands me. The only one who tries to. Oh, sure you tease me and everything, but you're supposed to, you're my big brother. Dad, he doesn't even try. He got wind of this hunt out in Colorado. He's been researching and everything. He wants to head out there in a couple of days. Hal and Marta have tried talking him out of it. Hell, they've even tried convincing him to leave us here, until you get stronger and so I can keep attending school here. But, he won't have it. He says that you wouldn't want to. He said he appreciated all they have done have for us, but, that you would be ready to go. Dean, he just doesn't get it. This is his obsession; it shouldn't have to be ours. Come on, please, won't you talk to him. Please?"

Before Dean could answer, Delores entered with his dad and Hal close behind. She wheeled a wheel chair over to him and told him to sit. When he started to protest she held the discharge papers up and threatened to rip them to shreds if he didn't plant his cute little butt into the chair.

Dean did as he was told, quickly grabbed the papers from her and signed them as fast as he could. Delores took her place behind him and she began pushing him out of the room. When she reached the patient pick up, she stopped and stepped in front of her patient. It hurt more than she could have ever imagined saying bye to him this time. She knew that this would be the last time she would see him. She had traded her being a Guardian Angel, for his well being, and she would never regret that; but that didn't mean she wouldn't miss him. She had come to care for him as if he were one of her own. Bending down the woman gave him a grandmotherly kiss on the check.

Dean's eyes became moist with tears at the thought of saying good-bye to this woman he had come to think of as a surrogate grandmother. He stood up and wrapped her in his arms, placing a kiss on the top of her head. He couldn't shake the feeling that this would be the last time he would see her. He gave her a sad smile, "Delores, I promise the next time I'm around this way I'll stop by and say hi. I need to make back that money you won off of me."

Delores shook her head and returned his smile, "I'd like that. But, what makes you think you're gonna win back that money?"

Dean laughed, gave her a quick peck on the cheek and turned towards the drive when he heard the familiar rumble of his baby pull up to the curb next to them.

Delores stood and watched the car pull away. She turned to go back into the hospital and was met with the presence of her old love Ian. Ian looked at her with love and compassion. He held out his hand to her, "Delores, it's time for you to come home. You have fulfilled your assignment here and have more than earned your reward."

Delores's body began to glow and she felt a warmth fill her. Smiling she reached out and took Ian's hand. She felt her being change and looked at the ground to find her body lying there. A melancholy sorrow briefly overcame her, she had wanted for years to go home, but at the same time had come to love serving the humans which her father had created.

A commotion sprang up from behind her and she realized that it was some of the hospital staff coming out to help her. She watched as they tried to revive her and cried with them when she heard them declare her dead. Ian wrapped his arms around her and soon she found herself back home. The peace and love of Heaven enveloping her, filling her with joy; she knew she never would forget the Winchester's, but the pain of losing them had been washed away by the simple fact that she was home.


	40. Chapter 40

The sun had just broken the horizon casting the sky in pastel pinks, yellows and a crystal clear light blue. Dean sat on the trunk of his beloved Impala waiting for Sam to say goodbye to Marta and Hal Williams. Livvi and Steven had come over the night before to say their goodbyes and to take part in the small memorial the Williams had set up for Delores, after her formal funeral.

Dean smiled, he knew that they had done that more for him than anyone; the news of her passing had hit him hard. John had agreed that the boys could stay until after her funeral and then they would drive out and meet him in Colorado. Sam had tried his best to convince Dean to forget about meeting up with their and just stay. He stated his case eloquently, a result of coaching from Marta of that Dean was sure; but he had denied his little brothers request. Dad had made it an order and orders were meant to be followed.

Dean cringed as he thought about what would have been sure to happen if he had given into Sam. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he may have wanted to stay, he wouldn't go against his dad; that would hurt 100 times more. No they were leaving and that was that.

He looked down as Max wheeled himself up next to the car and handed him a bag explaining that his mom couldn't send him off without least making sure he had some pie to eat along the way. The smile faded from Max's face and he grew serious, "Look, Dean you know you could stay. Dad has already told you that he would set you up with a job and you could attend classes at the local community college, you know get your mechanics license. Sam could stay and finish out his senior year at the high school here; instead of having to transfer goodness knows how many times. Hell, even Steven said he would lend you the money to start a garage, or be like a silent partner and all. It could work for you, you know that don't you?"

Dean looked at Max his expression matching that of Max's. "I know, maybe it could, but I can't abandon dad. He needs us. Besides, he'd just come get us and then there'd be hell to pay, and the price would come out of my hide; been there, done that; so don't want to go there again. This is our life; good or bad, this is what we were dealt. I wish with everything in me that Sam will someday be able to break free, but I know for me," Dean looked down and when he looked back up there was a sadness and resolution in his eyes, "this is it. I'm good at it, I really am; present case an exception," a half humored grin crossed his lips, "I'm a lifer and that's the end of it. Maybe things could have turned out different, and I'll never know, but I not going to fight it anymore. Sam, me, dad we're family and family sticks together."

Max shook his head; he couldn't comprehend the sacrifices this family made day in and day out. He looked over to Sam and felt a knot build in his chest. Sam was trying so hard to smile and act as if everything was alright, but damn if that kid's face wasn't good at betraying him and exposing his true feelings. He noticed the tightness that was in the hugs he had given his mother and father and now in the one he was giving Elena. He could see the desperation in the younger boy's eyes for this not to be goodbye, but instead a hello, I get to stay. He saw all this and wanted to make it possible for Sam.

Looking up at Dean he saw too that the older sibling noticed and if it was making Max feel this awful for Sam, well, he didn't want to think about how bad it was making Dean feel. He rolled back as Dean slid off the Impala's trunk and followed him as he made his way back to the front porch.

Dean stepped up beside Sam and cleared his throat, "C'mon squirt we need to get going if we're planning on keeping on the time schedule dad set for us." Dean met Hal's eyes and reached for the man's hand. Giving Hal's hand a firm handshake he thanked the man for everything he had done for them and for the offer of letting them stay.

Next he turned to Marta, who wasn't going to let him leave without getting one more hug out of him. Marta let him go and stepped back her eyes filled with tears, "You're daddy's a stubborn old cuss that's for damn sure. Are you sure you won't consider staying?"

Dean shook his head and brushed at the tears that trailed down his cheeks, "Marta, really we need to get going. Don't get me wrong the offer is more tempting than I think you know, but we can't. I'm sorry." Turning he picked up Sam's duffel and headed for the car. He opened the trunk and tossed Sam's duffel inside, slamming the trunk's lid a little harder then he had intended on doing. Grimacing he placed a hand on her cool metal and whispered, "Sorry baby, I didn't mean it. I guess I'm not good with good byes."

He felt Sam step up beside him and place a hand on his shoulder. Looking to his brother his plastered his game face back on, cast the Williams one last wave and smile then climbed inside the only real home he had ever known. Turning the key he felt and heard the familiar rumble of his girl's engine and his body relaxed. He was home.

What he said to Max came back to him. While it was true the wish of Sam getting out of the "family business" was one he often entertained, it was both a comforting and terrifying thought that, that one day that wish might just come to pass. Shaking free from the thought, he put the car in drive and headed out to meet their dad; the familiar rhythm of their lives picking back up it's beat as if it had never been interrupted. 


End file.
